


Life's Been Good

by The_Magic_Lava_Lamp



Series: Life's Been Good [1]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 20:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16048373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Magic_Lava_Lamp/pseuds/The_Magic_Lava_Lamp
Summary: ~1970s Au inspired by the movie 'Almost Famous'.~ when Paul McCartney and George Harrison land an Assignment from 'Rolling Stone' magazine it is the opportunity of a lifetime. Despite objections from his overly protective father, Paul and George hit the road with up-and coming band, 'Johnny and the Moondogs' and find that there is much more to write about than the music.





	1. It's All Happening

Paul picked the needle up and re-placed it on the grooves until he'd gotten past the skip. He took his pencil and scribbled a few fleeting thoughts and watched it spin. Slowly, he rose from his chair and locked his door. As soon as he heard the conformation sound, he pulled out his lighter and lit a cigarette. He sucked in his breath and went to kneel in front of his open bay window. The record was fuzzing as Paul leaned his head back and let the smoke pass his lips in rings. The sunlight was bouncing off the crevices of his lounge pillows, so he leaned farther out so it could dust across his cheeks. When the cigarette was on his lips, he was mouthing the words slowly and drawing out the words thoughtfully. The moment was unspoiled and sweet, the wind was blowing in few small bursts that curled his baby hairs to his temple. The noise downstairs brought him out of it, he brought his hands up and pulled the window near closing and took one last puff before throwing his cigarette out. Clumsily, he rose to the record player needle and shoved the record back into its cover. He kneeled by his bed and shoved it under, as it collided with the rest he winced. His father knocked on the door right as Paul held his watch close to his face, he grinned. He threw the door open and greeted his father with that same grin. His father waved a small magazine in front of his eyes and Paul looked away embarrassed.

"What page is your article?" He asked and Paul lolled his head over his shoulder and peer over the now open magazine. He pushed his finger down the glossy page and smiled.

"Page ten." Paul said with his tongue darting between his teeth as he tried to read upside down. His father flicked through the pages and scanned until he found Pauls. Paul looked from the words he'd sent in just last month and back up to his fathers eyes.

"The sound of the album was a collection of borrowed sounds from last years most popular tunes, blurred together to form this bands slyly named 'new and distinct' sound. " his father read a few of Pauls words out loud before shutting the magazine and looking at the lad. "I wish you'd write about something with substance." He cocked his head to the side and put the magazine against his side. Paul blew air from the side of his mouth and smiled. 

"Not something to brag to yer mates about then, huh?" Paul teased and his father shook his head and gestured for Paul to follow him out of his room and downstairs. "It's a small magazine, da. No one reads it anyway-"

His father sighed and started fixing dinner for them. Paul reached over and took the magazine from its place on the counter. "George's on twelve if yer curious. You can read it on the way to throw it in the bin if you'd like?" Paul smiled and handed it back to his father as he went back upstairs to his room. Paul chuckled as he walked across his floor and straightened up his room to make sure no other records were out in the open. The usual sounds of the streets below became slightly askew as Paul heard clattering sounds. He turned his head and found George plop down outside his bay window and stick his fingers under the barley open window. Paul slowly strolled over and helped him push it open as it got stuck. "Push the left than the right side and it should slide open, haven't I told you that before?" Paul smiled as he pushed the right corner of the window to budge it open. George didn't push himself in but slid more to the side so Paul could hop out. As Paul pulled his shoe from the window sill, George threw the magazine into his lap.

"Yer Da throw yours away yet?" George asked as he flipped through another copy. Paul nodded and curled his legs under him.

"Should be on his way, yeah." Paul pulled his worst in front of his face to check his watch. He watched the big hand flinch upwards and put it back into his lap. "Quite alright with me though. It's out there." Paul looked to his right, out into the small street of neighbors. George scoffed.

"For the ten people that read it." George teased and Paul jetted his leg out and kicked him. They sat outside, letting the wind blow the pages for them. George was buried in a jean jacket with patches all over and it rustled every time he moved his arms. The back of Paul's throats started to become fuzzy and dry, he cleared his throats and George looked up.

"Just a dry throat." Paul swirled his finger around the base of his neck. George gave him a flat look and leaned back. "I wasn't scoffing, George."

George raised his eyebrow and looked unconvinced. "I still don't get why you think it's daft-"

"Sending our work to Rolling Stone is quite ambitious is all. I'd kill to write for them, George. But I don't want them to think of us as desperate." Paul curled his legs under himself and shook the magazine a tiny bit. The chill of the day started crawling under George's jacket and he re-adjusted himself.

"I got us this, didn't I?" George waved his magazine and Paul gratefully smiled and nodded. "So I don't understand why you can't let yourself hope, Paul. I know you want to..." George tried to entice him and Paul's face blushed a little as he tried to hold back a grin. George smiled wickedly and leaned closer. Paul broke and his face brightened. He shot up and stood in embarrassment. As he turned to face away from George, he clutched the magazine.

"Ok ok. I really want this." He looked back at George who was still kneeling on the ground of Paul's tiny balcony. "So I guess, thank you." Paul rolled his lips together and rolled his eyes.

"This mean you're gonna stop being an arse about it and hope for the best?" George asked with a hopeful smile and Paul nodded and pulled George up from the ground.

"We could start writing for Rolling Stone." Paul smiled widely as he looked across at George.

George nodded "we just might!" They looked like they might hug but neither of them went for it. So George just pulled back with the magazine crinkled in his hand. "You want to come with me to send it this time?"

Paul ran his tongue around his bottom teeth and shook his head. "I've gotta stay with Da. Paul stabbed the tip of his foot down on the ground and curled his hand around the railing. George shook his head, disappointed. A few leaves brushed his knuckle and dripped dew down to pool at the beginnings of his finger nails, he flicked his finger slightly. George was slowly biting at his lip and sucking in breath like waiting for Paul to change his mind. As another drop of dew fell across his finger, Paul clicked his tongue and sighed.

"Alright. But I've gotta be back quickly, George. " Paul followed after George's giddy feet and they hopped down from the short fall from the balcony and onto the ground. George had the Rolling Stone mail in address by heart and was mumbling it number by number as he stepped across the cracks in the pavement. Paul felt the transfer of heat as they stepped into a small shop. Paul glided happily after George and fetched an envelope as George bought a pen. They met back outside against the brick and George took the magazine and flipped to their pages and circled their articles. He then had Paul hold the envelope open so he could shove them inside and closed it. As Paul watched George take it and hold it close to his chest, he opened his mouth.

"No second guessing comments about this being desperate, Paul! Just-"

"Hope for the best! I know, I am." Paul rolled his eyes playfully and shoved George forward and they started walking down towards a mailbox. George stopped as they found a blue one outside a shop. They stared at it for a few seconds and George finally just dropped it inside, they heard it fall against the built up mail and winced. George noticed Paul's nervous and slightly regretful face and bumped his shoulder to smile at him.

"I've got a good feeling about this one."

Paul looked at him and smiled back. "I should hope so"

They simultaneously turned on their heels and started walking back. On the way back, Paul lit himself another cigarette and took his time dragging it out. George snickered next to him and wrapped his jean jacket closer to his body. As they stopped right under Pauls balcony, Paul took one last longing gaze at the cigarette before starting to climb his way back up. Carefully, he leaned over and held the cigarette out for George to take. George took it between his fingers and Paul launched himself over the railing. As Paul straightened himself up, he looked back down at George who was flicking the cig around his fingers and started putting it out. Paul waved down at him and George waved right back. Paul turned on his tiptoes and went back into his room. He shrugged his jacket off and went back downstairs. Mike was hitting his foot against his chair and his father was walking around the kitchen. Paul could feel his eyes on him as he sauntered over and sat down next to him. He rubbed his palm against his neck and peeked over his folded arm at Mikes food. It was radiating with heat and smelled nice and he looked over at his father as he sat down.

"Do I get food?" He tilted his head and looked at his father with a longing look. "I'm freezing." Paul tried to guilt him into it.

"Shouldn't have gone out then, huh?" His father shoved his fork into his food. Paul scoffed and hopped out of his seat and went round to stand near his father. "You're nineteen Paul. Your capable of getting some for yourself."

Paul rolled his eyes and ran upstairs to get his jacket. He pulled it on as got down the stairs and grabbed his fathers keys. The restaurant Paul chose was only based on the fact they always had the radio on to a good station. The bell above him rang as he pushed the door open. He dragged his feet across the red and white tiles and ordered his food. The radio was staticky but the song was nice. He made sure to order a small dessert for Mike and his father and he started out to his car, an armful of food. He placed it all on the passenger side and sat down, turning the radio on. Before he started driving, he pulled out the thing of chips and started eating, giving himself some time alone. He shoved a chip into his mouth just as the radio started playing the beginning to great song. Paul made an excited yelp and swallowed down his food and turned the radio up higher. It might've been better if he wasn't completely alone but it was nice to hear it. Once the song finished, Paul started driving and pulled into his driveway. He carried the food inside and set it all down on the counter and propped himself up next to it and opened it all as his father came down the stairs. "Paul. Get off the counter."

Paul snickered and hopped off and offered his father the food which he gladly took. Paul started shoving food into his mouth and sat down at the table. It seemed as if he'd just got down wiping the tables off as the over powering pine smell glazed over Paul. His father sat down across from him and gave him a small reluctant smile. Paul gave him one in return and poked his fork around. "Is this really what you're after, Paul?"

Paul chuckled quietly and turned up from his food. "S'all I want. Why?" He smugly let his head fall down in a tilt almost to provoke his dad. But he just shook his head and looked down at his own food.   
\--------------------------------

A week later, Paul was mouthing the lyrics as his record player spun the record and brought it to life. He was gliding his pencil across his paper and searched for the right descriptive adjectives for the music. The song was just about to move on to the lyrics that always triggered Paul into singing along. He started on the verse and once it ended he pressed his pencil against his Cupid's bow and tried to regain his focus but all hope was lost when he heard George laugh from the window. Paul shot his head around and threw his pencil at him as George hopped in. George strolled over after he picked up the pencil and sat down on the bed next to Paul. "Your writing your next article? I think mine is gonna be about that Clapton compilation album."

Paul lolled his head over and gave George an amused look. "Course it is, you love him." Paul snorted and George hit him in the face with his pencil. "Mines about 'Dark side of the Moon'." Paul added as he grabbed the pencil form George's offending hand and started back on writing. George hovered over his shoulder and Paul hit him in the gut with his elbow. "What is there to write about a compilation album anyway, George?" Paul laughed as the phone rang downstairs. George shook his head. "You're just obsessed with him." He laughed.

"Paul!" His father shouted from downstairs. "Phone for you"

Paul gave George a curious look and hopped up and they came downstairs. His father handed the phone over and looked George up and down. "So George's over, than?" He rolled his eyes but George just grinned.

"Ello, Mr. McCartney, lovely to see you-"

"Shuddup for a second would ya?" Paul hushed George and turned back to the phone, this time George rolled his eyes and went to look around the kitchen. "What were you saying?" Paul said with slight edge in his voice.

"This is mark calling from Rolling Stone magazine to say I've read what you've sent in and I got to say, it was great."

"You're kidding?" Paul hiccuped. He sucked in a tight breath as he waited for an answer.

"I am not and I would like to offer you 700 dollars to write us 1,000 words on The Kinks." Mark said casually on the other line but Paul just kept sputtering.

"700 dollars?" He blurted and Mark made a small wince noise.

"Alright a grand."

Paul nearly dropped the phone as he tried to think of what to say next. He looked over out of the corner of his eye and saw George and his father making small talk as George looked for something to eat. Paul curled the phone tighter in his hand and leaned farther away. "Did you read my mate George's?" He asked nervously. Mark went quiet for a few seconds before speaking again. Pauls heart was racing as he kept hoping for the next words out of Marks mouth to be what he wanted. 

"Why don't the two of you work on this together, see how we like it?"

Paul blew a grateful sigh and nodded to himself. "Yeah, yes we'll take it!" Paul said without second guessing himself. He hung up the phone and sauntered over to George who was eyeing him suspiciously. "It's all happening." Paul said calmly and trying to hold back his grin.

"What are you on about?" George smiled and leaned against the counter.

"We're getting paid a grand to write 1,000 words on the Kinks from Rolling stone magazine!" Paul burst and George nearly choked this time, George kept into his arms and Paul laughed so hard his stomach hurt. Paul was so absorbed with happiness as he and George nearly fell on top of each other, he forgot to even spare a glance at his father. They both realized at the same time though and Paul let go of George and they turned slowly to look at him. "Oh da their having a showing not too far from here with a couple other bands and-"

"You can go. But Paul, don't do anything stupid. " his father said seriously but Paul couldn't believe he'd actually agreed to let him go. George bumped his shoulder again.

"Told ya I had a good feeling!"

And Paul gave his father a grateful smile and took George's hand to drag him back upstairs to his room. As soon as he shut his door, George locked it and the pulled all of Pauls albums out from under his bed. Paul was working on lighting himself a cigarette and opening the window while George placed the needle down carefully. As soon as the music started, George ran over and kneeled next to Paul, taking the cigarette that was being held out for him. The day brought warmth into Pauls window as he blew the smoke out the window. Neither of them could speak, they just just tried to catch their breath and suck the cigarettes slowly. They sat their until their legs became numb and fuzzy. "Good things happen when you hope" George said smugly and Paul would normally jokingly smack him but for the occasion, Paul just nodded wildly.

"It's all happening." Paul said with one last long gaze at the street outside. George rolled his head back and fell down to lay down on Pauls carpet. Paul looked back and joined him.


	2. Rock writers

George and Paul were cramped into the backseat of Jim McCartney's car shaking their legs up and down. Paul was furiously scribbling a few lines down on his paper as his father pulled up through the crowd of rowdy people. As Paul threw his door open, the smell of smoke and marijuana wafted over him. He took a worried glance to his father before he and George climbed out and started walking through the crowd. He tried to keep his eye on George as the crowd thickened but he soon recognized his father whistling so he turned around. From the car, Jim stuck his head out.

"Don't do anything stupid! Don't take drugs!"

Paul and George winced, everyone near them in the crowd laughed and turned towards his father and mocked him. "Don't take drugs." They chorused and waved their bottles around. Paul felt his arm rub against their clothing and as a girl spun around, her dry hair whipped round into his eye. He took George by sleeve and started pulling him to the ramp around the corner. They came across the rowdy youth, There was a couple in the middle of snogging, the bird being pressed up against the chain link fence with her hair curling around it. Paul was sure she'd have the pattern permanently imprinted on her skin when they finished. There was almost no one around as they got to the top. George gave Paul a weary look as they slowly walked down the ramp towards the backstage door. The both froze at the entry, feet sticking in the small puddle of rainwater and spilled alcohol. They gave each other fleeting glances to see who would ring the bell first and eventually Paul reached over and buzzed the bell. The hard heavy door pushed open to reveal a tall intimidating man.

"Hello I'm Paul and this is George for 'Rolling Stone' Magazine, we're here to interview 'The Kinks'"

The man looked them up and down and reached over inside a got a clipboard. He pressed it against his belt and made a few affirming grunting noises as he read over it. "You're not on their list." He said simply and shut the door. George made an audible dry disappointed noise in his throat. So Paul reached over and buzzed the bell again. The man flung the door open and he tried again.

"Here's s copy of the Magazine-" Paul tried to show him but he stopped him.

"If you're not on the list, you're not coming in. " he said even slightly more bitter and slammed the door shut again. Paul heard the sounds of tires squeaking behind them and sighed. He ushered George back up the ramp as a tour bus pulled up clumsily. The red and tan colors stood against the moonlight and the doors squeaked open. Four men fell off the steps in a cloud of smoke and started their way down the ramp past George and Paul. As they shoved past, Paul recognized them. George seemed too as well, giving Paul an impressed look. Without a word, they both stepped down the ramp again stopping near the band.

"Hello, I'm Paul and this is George and we would like to interview you for 'Rolling Stone' Magazine-" Paul cut himself off as the band gave him jarring looks and a lad who must've been their manager stepped towards the two of them. He gave them each their own personalized condescending looks within five seconds. Paul let out a few broken breaths as he waited for him to say something.

"We don't talk to magazines so if you'd kindly leave us alone." The statement wouldn't sound so bad if it weren't for the mans sour tone. He didn't spare them a second glance and went back over to his band. Paul swallowed as he heard the mumbling from them.

"Speaking to rock writers is music suicide, innit?" "Not even a fan, an enemy." and then there was then mumbling laughter. George put his head down and swallowed. Paul was about to scoff his shoes and walk off on the cracked pavement as he heard one of them banging on the door to be let in but he suddenly heard George's voice.

"John, Ringo, Stuart." He bravely addressed them and they turned to him. "I think the synchronized vocals alone on your last album was groundbreaking." George said calmly, pushing his hand against his chest. Paul glanced at George and turned back to the band.

"And I think deciding to produce the album yourselves was the right decision." Paul's voice was a little wobbly but he was hoping no one noticed. "Anyway." Paul mumbled and looked down at the ground before he and George turned to leave. They stared ahead at the large crowds piling up and accepted defeat. That was until they heard and erupt of amused comments.

"We'll come back" "what else do you think is groundbreaking about us?"

They turned back around and the band was gesturing for them to come back. George almost had to drag Paul behind him, who stood shocked for a few seconds. As they stopped, John reached for the door and banged it again. The same man as before opened the door and they all went to walk inside.

"These two aren't on -"

"There with us." John pushed through him and the band shoved themselves inside.  
\-------------------  
The musky air was heavy on Pauls shoulders as he stretched the recorders microphone cord out to follow Ringo around as he paced around the dingy room. "The music is a voice that says this is who I am, and fuck you if you can't understand me" Ringo jetted his hands out in a wave of a gesture. Paul nodded along and went to stretch the cord out longer but as he did, it went static. He twisted around and smacked it but Ringo kept talking.

"Plus, the birds are great" He shrugged his shoulders and gave a warm laugh. Paul chuckled and scanned the room for George, he was pressing his elbow into the fabric of his chairs arm and hanging on every word that came out of Stuart's mouth. When he moved his eyes back to find Ringo again, John was walking closer so he subtly moved his microphone closer to John. He flashed Paul a look that wasn't necessarily intimidating but he knew just as well that he should move away. So Paul went back to following Ringo around.   
\--------------------------------  
Paul was sat on a few trunks, swinging his leg slowly while his other one was curled over it. He was attempting to write everything he'd seen. He had his eyes completely focused on his notepad and all he could really hear in the background was fuzz. When George hopped down next to him, he nearly fell off.

"The hell?" Paul said in his breathy state of shock. George snickered.

"Wouldn't have scared ya so bad if you weren't buried in writing." George took his pencil out of his hands and Paul shot him an angry look. Just because he was so used to it, George held it between his fingers like a cigarette. He looked from it and back to Paul.

"Experience now, write later." George flicked his hand over and gave the pencil back. "S'that all you've been doing?" George put his hands back in his lap and Paul put his writing aside.

"Well.." Paul looked down at his notepad and back up at George. "Where were you?" He pushed the focus off of him and onto George. But he didn't seem to mind, in fact the lad smiled.

"Having a smoke with some of the sound guys for The Eagles."

As Paul's mouth went flat, he let out a few snickers. George tipped his head back and laughed. "How'd you manage that?" Paul asked, giving his notepad a longing look.

"Not by having me head buried in the article, I'll tell ya that much!" George shook his head. George lit a cigarette and puffed. Paul rolled his eyes and went to continue the conversation but he saw John start to approach them. He clamped his mouth shut but George twisted his body to greet him.

"John! I've had a smoke with the sound guys for The Eagles!" George's nerves seemed to have left him but Paul was still drowning in his. John gave a half smile and lit himself a cigarette.

"Our manager plays cards with theirs." John threw off-hand. George looked completely delighted. John snickered and pulled his cigarette down from the corner of his mouth. "You're very excitable"

George took that as a compliment and nodded his head. The way John sucked in his breath made it very easy for Paul to hear the clicking of his spit. John didn't give them any more words before walking off back towards backstage. George followed him with a strain of his eyes and hopped down from the trunks. His heavy jean jacket rustling as he gestured for Paul to follow him. So Paul leapt down and turned to go after him.   
\--------------------------

Johnny and the Moondogs were huddle together, arms crossing over arms their temples pressed against each other as John shouted a few things out. George and Paul stood off to the side watching the sweat of rock n roll beat down to their chins. And an arm jetted out and grabbed Pauls jacket and pulled him in, it was John. And soon enough, George had been pulled in as well. He felt someone's fist ruffle his hair around. Paul took a deep breath trying to save the moment for him to picture later when he was back at home. And they broke apart and ran up the steps to go on stage, Paul was just going to stay at the end of the stairs but George pulled him up as a couple of flashing lights and arrows guided them, John craned his neck to look back at them. "Stand right over there." He said, cocking his head to a place right next to the stage. Then John ran out and bent his knee down and grabbed his mic with a sway of his head.

Soundboards began clicking and the rumbling of the crowd, shock the floor beneath their feet. The announcer shouted with his hoarse voice "Johnny and the Moondogs". And the lights spun around, cueing the slow burn guitar riff. As soon as it started, Paul bent his knees back and hummed, his first instinct was to pull out his notepad and start taking a few notes. But as he did so, George slipped the yellow pencil from his hand and shook his head. He flung the pencil over his shoulder and raised his arms way above his head, his sleeves falling down to his elbows. He tilted his head back and puffed cigarette smoke into the air.   
\--------------------------------

George and Paul walked slowly towards the door after the smoky bliss of the night. Neither of them perked up the courage to say anything else to the band in fear that their social time with them had ended. But before they reached the door, George mumbled something. Paul stopped, cocking his head he waited for George to repeat himself.

"Staurt's invited us to the party their having at their hotel tomorrow night" he tried to put it off as casual but Pauls break out shining grin made him lose it all. And they looked into each other's eyes and just starting laughing without a care in the world right now. After they collected themselves, they sorted themselves out the door. The air was a mixture of second coming alcohol and smoke.

"I can't tell me dad, he's not gonna let me go." Paul suddenly stopped and gave George a look. George put the cigarette he'd been dragging out and swallowed.

"You could lie to em'. But Paul this could open up a lot of things for us and he'll catch on." He chuckled. "You're nineteen aren't ya?" He bumped his shoulder and Paul coughed.   
\-----------------------------------

Paul was buttoning and unbuttoning his jacket in the reflection of the sunset outside. His father pacing from the kitchen to the living room. He'd yet to put his shoes on, so Paul was curling his toes around the carpet as he traced the tiny brand name on the metallic button. His father made his seventh round before coming over and gripping Paul by his forearms. He looked in between his eyes to avoid eye contact and the words just sort of slipped out.

"I don't understand why you like something that promotes drugs and promiscuous sex so much."

Pauls chuckle was burning at the back of his throat but he didn't let it escape. "Music is more than that dad.-"

He cut himself off when he realized he'd gone on the same rant dozens of times. His father moved his arms up to Pauls shoulders and squeezed them slightly. "You can go. Just-"

"Don't take drugs, I know." Paul snickered as his father stood a little straighter. The light outside was beginning to orange and Paul tilted his head towards it. His father slowly let go of him and back up to show him that he could go. So Paul put his shoes on and stopped at the door. He hand his hand curled around the knob and turned back towards his father. He smiled before he shot out the door. 

 

 

George met him halfway between their homes and showed him the messy written directions that Stuart had given him. The pencil was smudge and dangerously close to illegible. But they made it there and it was towering. Paul could tell that the kind of people who stay there, well they could afford it for one. Paul took a deep breath and he and George walked inside. It was embroidered with red and gold but smelled of drenching smoke. Paul followed George to the instructed room. The doors they passed were all wide open. People were springing from room to room. He heard the quiet strumming of a guitar trying to match some birds echoey toned voice. Right before they got to the room, Paul was over thinking the fact that they weren't sure how to make an entrance. But they didn't have a lot of time to decide. They stood at the doorway, the room was littered with girls sitting on the arms of chairs or being looped around lads arms. John was spread out on his chair smoking instead of speaking. Stuart was making eyes at a bird across from him, she was edging her shirt to the edge of her shoulder teasingly before lifting her arm to place it back. Ringo spotted them though and threw his arms up.

"The enemies!"

He pulled them inside, there was an intense nervous giggling wanting to burst from Paul but he held it in and it made him a little sick. Paul didn't plan on being separated from George but it just sort of happened. Paul was intensely nervous as he searched the area for George. And he found him surprisingly, he had shed his swallowing jean jacket and was showing a few birds his ability to do smoke rings. A blonde one looked at him with fully wide eyes and whispered something that made George blush. Paul curled up on a chair and waited for something to provoke his interest so he wouldn't just be staring ahead. He started picking at the golden embroidery until a few of the strings started pulling out. But something made him look up and he found John. As soon as he made eye contact, he shot his head back down. Put soon enough, John sat down on the table in front of him with a drink held out for him.

"You are old enough to drink aren't ya?" John snickered as Paul reached out and took it from him. He twirled it around in his grip and was hesitant to actually drink it.

"Course I am." Paul said, just to avoid Johns intimidating eyes, he scanned the room. John snorted, and shifted on the table.

"Making stories with yer eyes, aye?" John clicked his tongue after the harmless bite. "Just want ya to know. It's best if you keep things out of your writing."

Paul ran his lip on the small ridges of his teeth and nodded.

"Some of us have people at home." He looked back at a few of the birds that were hanging about. And Paul knew that 'some of us' meant John himself. So Paul nodded slowly and played with the recorder on his lap. John gave the clunky thing a grazing of his eye and snickered. He reached over and lifted it from Pauls lap, barely hearing a small hitch in Pauls breath. He slid it across the long glass table top and gave Paul a disapproving eye. And the interaction was severed from there, he turned out and slid there back door open, the open ground floor pool extended the party further than Paul had expected. A few people jumped or were pushed in, sizzling out there cigs and smokes. He had craned his neck to watch the scene but grew tired and went to look for George again. This time the lad was alone so Paul took advantage of it and sat down next to him on the lounge seat.

"What was it that blonde bird said to ya?" Paul teased him. George blushed and bite his lip.

"She asked if I could blow smoke rings in her mouth."

They dissolved into mounds of immature giggles, and Paul realized that that specific bird had George's jacket resting on her shoulders that she pulled tighter around her neck. Her blonde baby hairs curling around the Jean. Paul coughed, taking a few fleeting glances and found John showing some bird just how much he could chug. Staurt was chatting up the bird and Ringo just seemed to be happily standing by, more interested it seemed in what Paul and George themselves were getting up to.


	3. Thankful

Pauls neck was bent back over the arm of the embroidered chair, he took a few warm up breaths before he yawned. He stretched his back and shoved himself up to a regular sitting position. And as he rolled his tongue around his mouth, the taste was stale like he hadn't opened his mouth in a few hours. He took a gaze around the room and found the rowdy crowd that had been there before he shut his eyes was simmered out to people laying over each other making opened mouth snores. His mind clicked and he started to think he might have messed up. So he lolled his feet over the side of the chair and got up. The wood creaked under his feet as he stepped over hands and legs. He curled his hands around the curtain and pulled it back and when the sun poured in he gave a hoarse hiss of "shit!"

He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and shoved it on as he walked as fast as he could around the hotel room looking for George. His ankles were sore from the odd steps he had to take over people's sleeping bodies. Thankfully, George was tucked against a corner of the wall with the morning light warming his hair. Paul sunk down next to him in the space available. He shoved George's shoulder and the lad blinked awake. He uncurled his body and gave Paul a sleepy smile. "I've got to go home." Paul pulled George up to stand and he stretched just as Paul had done. He had his hand around George's upper arm like he might fall, so George pushed him away.

"I'm not hungover or anything. I'm not completely irresponsible, Paul." He rolled his eyes and carefully made his way towards the door. Paul followed him with a lingering attitude and stopped him right in front of the door.

"Your jacket, George?" Paul slapped George's bare arms and watched him realize he'd been wearing it, he tossed his head around to look for it. "You put it on some bird last night." Paul reluctantly told him. Immediately, George and Pauls eyes landed on the bird who was laying on one of the seats with her arm flung out over the edge. George made a move to get a closer look but Paul pulled him back by the arm. "Just let her have it, yeah?"

George looked at it longingly and sighed. "Let's go." He went to shove past Paul to open the door but they heard loud shuffling. They bother turned with curiosity and found John with a half empty glass of what looked like a left over of his drink from last night. Besides the bleariness in his eyes, he looked fully awake. And as he dragged his eyes over Paul and George, he smiled. It was a closed mouth grin that made the skin on his chin puff out. He swirled the glass and stepped towards them.

"Leaving early?" He put the glass down, it would sweat onto the wood of the shelf but that was hardly on his mind.

"Pauls dads gonna kill him." George said mindlessly with his slight irritation he had with Paul. And Paul shoved his elbow into his rib cage. John tilted his head in amusement.

"Still old enough to drink? What's your age today?" John asked quizzically but charmingly. Pauls eyes had still yet to focus and were glaring the sunlight and making his head a little dizzy.

"I'm nineteen." Paul replied cheekily and sticking his chin into the air. John followed him with something inquiring in his eyes. It made George roll his head back to disconnect from the conversation and stretch back to find that bird again. The long blinds hanging on one of the windows clashed, the rest were covered with curtains. It made the sun light warm the birds skin in stripes. He slid his feet back and felt relieved when she stirred and sat up. Her ponytail was flopped down flat and she coughed. George didn't really have to excuse himself from John and Paul and just shuffled over to her. She flung her legs over the side of the chair and stood. She flashed him a grin that strikes him as something familiar from last night. He looked at her expectingly and she shrugged the jacket off and held it out for him on the tip of her finger. When he took it, she tossed her hair around and traced his path back to John and Paul.

"I don't suspect you're here to sleep with the band so why are you here?" She asked without really looking at him and crossing her arms flat against her chest.

George snickered. "We're writing an article about them for Rolling Stone. We were writing about The Kinks but-"

She held her hand out in front of his face with a raised eyebrow. He stopped talking as she took her hair out of its ponytail and smoothed it down. "That's odd, They aren't rather fond of rock writers." She looked off, confused. "Especially John but you might want to go back over there." She tilted her head back and pointed with her chin as John was saying something that seemed to be really peeking Pauls interest. So George gave the girl a polite smile and went back over with his jacket folded over his arm. Paul turned his gaze to him and smiled.

"You two should come to the first few places of our tour with us, you know for the article." John looked like he was repeating that and Paul looked at George.

"We should!" George happily elbowed Paul. But as he looked back at the bird, she still had that confused look on her face and remembered how she'd said it was odd.

"If you really don't mind." Paul added with his signature insecurity. John took a duo of the old drink and nodded.

"Give you writers a chance to write the good stuff, aye?" John gave them a small smirk and turned and walked back from where he came from. As soon as he disappeared, the lads turned to each other and smiled widely. And they walked out happier than they would've before.   
\-----------------------------------

As Paul tried to walk into his home quietly, he opened the door slowly to a crack but a bell that hung from the door knob rung as it fell down onto their carpet. He sighed painfully and walked in, bent over and tossed it onto the counter, it rang once more as it hit hard. His father walked in from their open kitchen area with a curious expression on his face.

"You want some breakfast?" He asked. Paul shook his head.

"No thanks I'm fine-"

"Why didn't you come home last night?" He asked, not angry just worried. So Paul felt guilty as he went into his explanation.

"I'm sorry, George and I fell asleep. But uh, I've got to make a phone call really quick." Paul went to pass him. His father let him go but stayed close by him. Paul picked the phone up from the wall and dialed waiting anxiously for the other end to pick up.

"Rolling Stone Magazine?"

"Mark? This is Paul. I was wondering if an article about 'Johnny and the Moondogs' would flow better?" Paul asked nervously. Mark hummed in thought.

"Up and coming band, I like it. What direction are we taking this?" He could hear Mark shuffling like he sat up with interest and felt relieved.

"Well, we thought following them on tour for the first few stops might give us a glimpse into their place in music at the moment-"

"And this is a real possibility?"

"Yeah actually, they've invited us..."he didn't tell him that only John had really done so, finding the detail irrelevant.

"I love it, Paul. I need constant updates though."

"Of course of course. Thank you Mark. " Paul hung up and stared at the phone for a few more seconds before finally going back to find his father. He was leaning over the counter waiting for Paul, having heard everything. Paul expected so, he sat across from him. He traced his fingers on the tiles as he waited for his father to speak.

"You're nineteen and I can't stop you." Was what he first muttered. And Pauls leg shook, so he planted his foot flat down on the carpet. "But I'm not happy." The room was quiet again, Jim waiting for Paul to respond.

Paul pressed his fingernail into his chin and nodded. "Yeah. Didn't expect anything else. But I'm proud of me for you"

Jim scoffed. " I am proud of you, Paul.-"

"I know I know. Just teasing." Paul got up and went around the counter to pat his father on the shoulder. But he pulled Paul in and gave him a hug. Paul breathed in and nodded into his shoulder. "Im not leaving you forever. I'll be back shortly." He chuckled. He let him go and looked Paul over.

"I know you'll be. I'll have you in if you're not."

Paul smiled and slowly walked out and went for his room.

 

 

Some hours later, George tapped his finger against Pauls window and Paul smugly waited for him to open it. George got it stuck halfway open and waited impatiently for Paul to come fix it. The window pane was getting to be cracked and sure enough one of the next few times Paul would shove it, it would break. But right now it was just a few hairline cracks, so Paul didn't pay much attention to it. George bent himself over and crawled under it and stretched out onto the floor. He lit a cigarette and smugly let it rest on his lip. "What I tell ya? We're gonna go with the band!"

Paul snickered and sat down on his bed. He realized his shoes were still on and he kicked them off to lounge back comfortably. He tossed his head back and hummed. "Mmm you did. This is all..." Paul waved his hand about.

"Too good to be true." George finished for him and climbed onto the bed next to him. "It's strictly business though. We have an article to write-"

"Oi, that's coming from the lad who tossed me pencil away from me-"

"Aye, aye. I know when to be responsible, Paul." George rolled his eyes and puffed slowly. He crossed his legs on the bed sheet and leaned back. "The bird gave me my jacket back" George said to avoid any further irritation with Paul as he pulled at the sides. Paul nodded.

"Glad you told me, It was tearing me a part truly." He put his hand against his chest, under his collarbone and George shoved him away. They both leaned back and sighed, taking in the day.

"John seemed to like you though. He was giving you this look-"

"He was giving me a look?" Paul repeated back quite amused. "What kind of look?" He did his best impression of a blushing bird as he leaned closer.

George shook his head and slapped his shoulder. "Queer." George muttered teasingly. "I don't know. It was just a look that made him seem intrigued or something." George twirled his hand about as he tried to find the right words that just didn't seem to exist. Paul laughed and laid his forearm against his stomach. "Anyway. I think they like us so...." He shrugged with a smile. His shoulders rubbed against Pauls wall.

"S'good" Paul mumbled and George nodded. "How are we contacting them, huh?" Paul suddenly asked, realizing that he didn't have a way to and was slightly nervous that the whole thing was gonna be shot But George was quite the well prepared mate and smiled.

"Ringo, gave me the hotels number last night, I called when I got home and he told us to wait at the bus stop round the corner with all of our stuff at seven on the dot two days from now." George held up his watch for emphasis and tapped his finger against the face before he slouched back against the wall.

"Was he drunk?" Paul asked. George snickered.

"No more than the usual rock star. He ain't gonna forget." He waved his hand out. And Paul nodded, taking George's reassurance. "I'm excited." George mumbled, slightly embarrassed but Paul just smiled.

"Yeah me too. Should probably gather me things together huh?" He pushed himself from the wall and off the bed. He pulled a small suitcase and ran his hands down his pants as he stared at it. George hopped down next to him and looked at him expectingly. Paul shoved him off and threw a small pile of clothes in it and sat back down but opened his drawer and took his small rounded sunglasses out and put them inside, shutting the case after that. George nodded.

"Done?"

"Uh-huh."   
\-------------------------

Paul was sleeping on the floor because George was clingy in his sleep. It had started to rain a bit outside and the drops clinked against his window. So Paul watched it instead of sleeping for no particularly reason, it wasn't like he had some fondness or admiration for the rain, maybe he was bored. He kicked his legs together and dipped his head back into his arms. With being awake, thoughts passed through him softly. And he found himself thinking about what George had called 'a look'. Paul hadn't seen what he was talking about but he'd been looking passed John and at the floor because he was nervous. He wanted to know what was in Johns eye that seemed significant enough that George would remember it and tell him.

He let the thought dissolve and pressed his face into the carpet. He slowed his breath and waited for sleep. Occasionally he would get close but something, like a hair on his nose, would make him open his eyes and have to start all over again. He knew very well that if he stopped focusing on it, he'd fall asleep but he didn't. So his thoughts came back around to the band again. George seemed to think that they liked them. And Paul was sure to, apart from Stuart because he'd never spoken with him. But George had, the social little git. Paul smiled. The carpet dragged along his lips and he reminded himself to thank George over and over again. 

If night wasn't for sleeping, it was for overthinking and reanalyzing all the good parts of the past day. And as Paul retraced the party for what seemed like way too many times, he remembered that he'd left his recorder there. He pushed his face down flat on the carpet and hissed. George shuffled over on the bed and Paul sighed. The rain was starting to fade away and he was starting to get tired.   
\-------------------------------

When he opened his eyes again, he just stared up at the ceiling waiting for George to wake up who was still breathing slowly on Pauls bed. He gave George ten more minutes before he shook him awake by the shoulders. George shot up so fast and hit his forehead against Pauls. He laughed despite the pain and Paul sat back on the bed with his hand over his forehead.

"Oi, that hurt. Anyway I was waking ya up to say thanks"

George gave him a flat look.

"And to get your lazy arse out of me bed." Paul snickered and shoved George. "Thanks for making this happen, Geo." Paul smiled and George looked proud.

"You're welcome."

Paul looked kind of like he wanted to say something more so George shuffled out of his bed and waited for him to start with it but he didn't, he remained still and bit his lip. "Something you want to say?" George asked as he pulled his shoes on.

"No. No. But why did Ringo give you the hotels number last night?" Paul asked, remembering that detail from yesterday, George shrugged.

"Dunno. We started talking after you fell asleep. Which was pretty early, mind you. I don't really remember what about but we laughed a lot." George snickered. "And he wrote it on a slip of paper and gave it to me." He shrugged again. "Fell asleep before I could wake you up." He chuckled again. Paul laughed as well and walked George over to the window. As they said goodbye and George slipped out. Paul stuck his arm out with the intention to wave but quickly pulled back to get a cig for himself. He lit it slowly and let it hang off his lip as he got up and locked his door. He then kneeled back down to enjoy it before his dad came up looking for him. He clicked his nails against the sides and smiled. Something that was finally worth something was happening. And he was nineteen and was free to do it.

Whatever look that was in Johns eyes was probably in Pauls own now as he thought about him and the band. He titled his head and scratched the base of his neck, with the cigarette pointing up towards the ceiling. His skin was most likely irritated but he kept at it anyway. With his head in its current position, his eyes found the 'Johnny and the Moondogs' album he had lodged behind his desk. He snickered and crawled over to it, pulling it out and dragging his hand down the front dusty cover. He looked down at Johns picture and looked at his eyes, which were at his resting position. He shook his head and put out his cigarette and went to place the record on his player. He made sure to handle the needle carefully as to avoid scratches and as the music played, Paul went over to his bed and laid down. He folded his hands over his middle and listened.


	4. With a little help from my friends

Paul was in a nervous sweat and biting his finger nails. He dug his other hand through his bag last minute before he grabbed it and shuffled down stairs. His jacket was sticking to his arms and the fabric of the bag handles rubbed uncomfortably in his grip. His father was at the table waiting with a cup of tea. He gave Paul a warm look and pushed the cup to Paul. He set the bag down on the stool next to him and Paul sat down across from him. With every other sip, Paul would bring his watch to his face. His father would make a disapproving sound and he would bring it back down again.

"Something I can do to change your mind?" His father asked, anything but confident but on the verge of hopeful and Paul shook his head. He didn't give him an answer, he just took a few breaths and waited. George knocked on the door just before Paul was going to give up and leave his dad's guilting look for a different room. He opened the door and George had a toothy grin on his face and held a bag in his hand. Paul was just going to follow him out the door but he couldn't help but look back at his father and give him a small smile. His father returned it briefly but quickly turned off into the other room. Paul deflated but George quickly pulled him outside. The sun light trailed down Pauls skin and comforted him. The pavement was cracked and the dirt bleed through with small dead flowers pressed down into it like veins, quietly George was muttering the lyrics of a song that would be plugged into Pauls brain when he would try to sleep that night. He wondered where it was he might be sleeping tonight, he grabbed his bag and pulled it over his shoulder. He was led to the bus stop and they plopped down on the bench.

As Paul squinted in front of him, looking through a rose tinted filter, his hands dampened. Instead of talking to George, he just searched for little things to look at. His round sunglasses dipped to the tip of his nose as the tall dusted orange bus plowed down the street. Paul straightened with shock, he knew he'd been hoping for it but for some reason he wasn't expecting it. George shot up and stood at the edge of the pavement as it pulled up. Paul had to serve his urge and hold his arm out across George's chest to keep him from leaning to far forwards. He heard George's grimace and he put his arm down again. The bus doors creaked open and John stood, recovering from a stumble that must've happened within the two seconds that the bus skidded to its stop and to when the doors opened. He offered George and Paul a wide grin to which George took as his invitation to hop on, John greeted him passingly and held out his hand with a curve of his stature. Paul pushed it aside and grabbed the rusty rail instead. And John pulled back as if amused. His smirk was crooked and Paul walked past him. The interior was just as dusty as the outside but smokier. George was pressed against the window seat waiting for Paul to take the empty spot next to him and he was about to but John ushered him over to his own seat. Normally, Paul wouldn't have allowed himself to sit next to someone as good as a stranger but he was still reeling over being in a bus with a band he'd listened to on his own record player.

He sat down, the aisle seat. And John turned his head to look out the window. So Pauls eyes went right for George in the tight and small bus. He couldn't tell his mood much from the back of his head but he heard a greeting pass through his mouth. Ringo had gone up from his own seat and sat down next to George, he got the window seat though. Paul shifted his legs uncomfortably. Paul was aware of the few birds that were in between seats. That blonde bird of George's was cross legged on the back bench. She was talking to another but much shorter haired blonde bird who's hand was on Staurt's jetted out knee from the shorter seat in front of her. Paul strained his eyes as best he could to view it but he gave up, turning back to John. He was still silently looking out the window. Paul poked his shoulder.

"You know John...I could interview you now-"

John interrupted him by taking the glasses right from Pauls face and put them on his own. "Think these suit me more." His laugh was nearly as crooked as his smile. Pauls felt his heartbeat in his throat and went to open his mouth again but closed it when he realized he hadn't anything to say. John smelled vaguely of sweat with a teasing scent of cologne. John starting to lean over Pauls lap to insert himself into the conversations that were taking place around the bus. Pauls breathe was restrained and hesitant as he traced his eyes over the slope of Johns collar bone. And when the bus came to a stop at a lone gas station, everyone fought to get up. Paul even caught sight of George following after Ringo, without so much as a passing glance to Paul. He wanted to preach to him how wrong that was but with John just under his chin, it was just too hypocritical. John didn't move to pile out of the bus, in fact he just leaned back against the window. The social rules that Paul held a strict compliance too were telling him that it was far too impolite to leave John alone. So he just opened his note book and started to write a few things down. This seemed to peek Johns interest and he held his chin over Pauls shoulder.

"I'm dying to know what ya think..?" John pulled back again. Paul turned his head and his eyes asked for an elaboration. "The band, Paul."

A rare sense of confidence that he could hold over Johns head came up Pauls throat. "You just want the compliments, don't ya?" Paul put the tip of pencil against his teeth. John chuckled and lit a cigarette. It might not in fact be that song George had been singing that will plague his mind when he'll go to sleep but Johns laugh. Part of him was searching for more things to say to keep John interested, like if he lost Johns interest he'd be rendered useless. John pulled his legs up to cross them and leaned his elbow on his knee. Paul opened his mouth to say something witty but John interrupted him.

"Ask me one of your questions, Paul." He tilted his head gracefully. 

Paul fumbled to try a find the page he'd written down the questions he wanted to ask but couldn't seem to find it as the pages stuck together. Avoiding any more embarrassment, he just closed the notebook and gave John a nervous smile. He racked his brain for a question.

"What's your writing process like? Do you have to be in love to write a love song-?"

"Aye aye, I said one, didn't I?" John teased, looking back out the window. "How do you know I write the songs anyway?" John turned back to him with a glint in his eyes. Paul momentarily looked down and felt heat in his cheeks. He was hoping John would just go on to something else but he did not seem to want to breeze by the question.

"Am I your favorite, than?" John brought his face closer to Pauls dipped chin. People started coming back into the bus, catching Pauls attention was George's giggle that wasn't twisted in the regular restrained rose thorns he had when he laughed around Paul alone. So Paul momentarily left Johns gaze to put his chin over his shoulder and look at him. He'd yet to sit, he was just leaning against the seat while Ringo took the window seat this time. It made Paul slightly angry, he was well aware that his friendship with George was quite dysfunctional for the single fact that Paul was demanding, bossy and that annoying sort of motherly that drove George insane. Before Paul could really do or think anything of it, Johns finger directed his chin back to face him.

"What are you feeling right now?" John asked, jetting his eyebrows out farther. Paul looked at him in question, Johns hand still curled under his chin. 

"Annoyed." Paul shrugged. And John tapped his pointer finger against his chin.

"That's me process! I write about me. And what I'm feeling." He leaned back again, uncrossing and crossing his legs over and over again. "Think that may answer yer second question that I didn't ask for too."

Paul leaned back on the seat as the bus kicked off again. The bumps along the way, bouncing the glasses on the tip of Johns nose. They didn't talk to each other the rest of the way to the hotel. When the bus rolled over to the hotels lot, everyone began to stand prematurely, making a show of their stumbling. Paul happened to catch George's arm before they went inside. He pulled back with a grin that was only on his face from his previous chat with Ringo. "Aye, we sharing a room?" George asked, taking the question right from Pauls mouth. So Paul just nodded and let him go off back to the new mates he'd made. And Paul fell back into pace with John.

They stepped against the pavement with their hands shoved into their pockets, bobbing their heads as they walked. "I say we get up to no good in Staurt's room!" John shouted next to Pauls ear. The band hollered and the girls whistled. George pretty much stiffened just the same as Paul. The band rushed their check in and ran up the stairs and took Staurt's room. John rolled over Stuart's bed and already started cracking drinks open and lifting everyone cigarettes. Paul was going to hover at the edge of the room but John wagged his finger at him and gestured him over. Paul took the seat next to him and let John put a smoke in his mouth.

"Don't tell her mother, bout this one?" John pinched Pauls skin, Paul shuddered back and drew a hesitant breath.

"Me mums dead." Paul whispered.

"Small world, mine too." Johns laugh was careful in its teetering from pain to a breezy ignorance for his very own situation. It made Paul see something relatable in John where'd he been seeing only idolization in the past. And sooner or later, Paul was hanging on every word that John was telling him. Stringing nonsense words into something profound or maybe it only seemed profound under the influence of the drugs. And when John shifted to fetch them drinks, George took his spot in front of Paul.

"I've missed me mother hen." He smiled, Paul smiled genuinely and gave George a funny look.

"I think I may be high, George." He giggled and George found it a little hard to believe that Paul allowed himself to get a little of the hinges. So George took Pauls hands and stood him up.

"Let's get to our room, then." He began to lead Paul out of the room.

But John came back and stopped them. "You off for the night, aye?"

George chuckled as Paul just smiled and nodded. Surprisingly, John leaned forward to Paul and pressed a small kiss against Pauls cheek. George nearly dropped Paul in shock. "This is the state of mind I find best to write in." John whispered so softly that George almost didn't catch it. And he patted Pauls shoulder and walked off. So George pulled Paul by the arm quickly to get out of there. Forgetting to be cautious in Pauls condition, George just shoved him in their room and flopped Paul down on the bed. George knew Paul was in no mind to answer any of his questions so he just sat on his bed and watched Paul fall asleep, as Paul had done for him many nights when George found himself to be a compromising drunk. Thinking about it now, John was most definitely not in the right place of mind when he'd kissed Paul on the cheek so George just tried to let it go, it didn't have to be as important as he was making it out to be. So George fell flat against his bed and let the headache roll over him and fell into a comforting sleep. 

 

Paul woke up in the middle of the night, sweaty and tired. The blanket was heavy and uncomfortable so he threw it off and straightened his back. He curled himself at a desk chair and threw his notebook open. The words he splashed across the page were blurry and fuzzy but he was sure they made sense. There was a faint knocking at the door that Paul almost thought was in his head. But as it got louder, Paul threw their door open. There stood a firmly planted John with intrigued eyes. John tossed himself in and tiled the notebook for his inquiring eyes.

"Gonna need credit for me nonsense words, Mate." He chuckled. He turned back to the fair faced Paul. "What do you think of me?"

"A lot." Paul blurted and it only seemed to make John giddier. So John took Pauls hand and walked him soundlessly towards what must have been his room. The heavy door clicked shut and Paul sat down on his bed. John was only going to prepare Paul a drink, water to diffuse a little of his hangover to be and soothe his high but as he poured the drink, Paul leaned on the drawers next to him.

"You are me favorite, you know." Paul flounced on his words and fluttered his eyelashes.

"Well that's quite lovely." John held out the glass and Paul took it, only to put it down on drawers again. But John picked it up again and held it right under Pauls lips. So Paul drank it. 

 

 

When George woke up alone the next morning his mind wandered worriedly in the way he thought Paul might've done countless times over nothing with himself. His first instinct was just to get dressed and go out into the hall. As he did so, Johns room door opened and out popped Paul and John. George shot his arm out and pulled the very tired looking Paul away from John and shoved him into their room, closing the door to face the intimidating John.

"The hell?! You know Pauls only nineteen! What was he doing in your room-!"

George's shouting was stopped as John cupped his hand against George's mouth. "Came to check on him, he was pretty out of it so I brought him to mine to have some water and a chat until he seemed a little better." John rolled his eyes, let go of George and wandered back into his room. Immediately George shoved into his own room where Paul was shifting through his bag for aspirin probably. The hypocritical mother hen was sighing in pain as he shifted and dug through.

"This is not what I expected." George awkwardly chuckled and Paul gave him a hesitant smile.

"Don't know what got into me mate. How was your night then?" Paul asked with curiosity, and George was preparing to infer that Paul just wanted to find something daft George had done to shift the blame onto him.

"I hung around Ringo most of the night. Didn't get me self into much more than a few drinks unlike you daft son." George sat down on the bed next to Paul as he dug his own hand into Pauls bag and pulled out the aspirin for him. Paul gave him a thankful smile.

"Ta." Paul ran up to the bathroom, pressing his hand against the sink as he filled a cup with water and swallowed the pills. "You seem to like Ringo a lot." Paul observed as he breezed past George.

George followed him dart around their room, not knowing what way Paul had intended that comment to sound so he was prepared to brush it off as Paul continued looking for his work from the night before. "Yeah. He's-"

"You know, we've got to stop ourselves from being their mates." Paul said softer as he approached George.

"Yeah, I know that. Got to be objective for writing purposes." George nodded and an annoyed face twisted across him. "But I didn't spend the night with one of them." He whispered harshly.

"Like you weren't on yer way." Paul spat, knowing exactly why he shouldn't have said that. Flashes from the last summer when Paul caught George in a very intimate position with a man went through Pauls mind. George swallowed and looking completely unhappy with the taste, he turned off sharply into the bathroom and shoved his toothbrush into his mouth. Paul carefully tried to follow him.

"M'sorry, George. You know-"

George swiftly reached his hand out and slammed the bathroom door shut in Pauls face. Paul observed the chipping wood and let himself pick up the sounds of the running water that he knew George only turned on to make it sound like he was busy in there. Paul was completely disgusted with himself and walked off, giving up on George for the moment. He wasn't exactly sure what he had to do until the band gave them the heads up, so Paul just sat there. He closed his eyes and the running sink water heightened in his ears.


	5. Giddy

Paul gave out in a near ten minutes before he went up to the bathroom door again. He banged the edge of his fist against the dingy door.

"Geo! We've got to be on the bus sooner or later." Paul was greeted with nothing but silence. Meaning George knew he should be getting out but wanted to prove his point. "C'mon." Paul leaned his head on the door.

Eventually, George cracked the door open and walked out with his head held high. He strutted past Paul with an aggressive look and the room turned incredibly tense. "George-?"

"Shove off, Paul. That was a right shitty thing to say." George's words were drenched in venom. Paul was looking at him with the intent to start apologizing again but George's face fell from anger to shame.

"I've written a few things down, responsible and that." George tossed his notebook at Paul. "Take a look when you aren't busy spending the night at John's." George tried his hand at the same venomous dig and tore his suitcase from the bed. Not caring if Paul had to go after him, he slammed the door shut. Paul bit down on his tongue and went to work shifting his stuff together.

 

Paul seemed to be the last on the bus, he stepped on much like his school days. Looking from seat to seat. George had taken to sitting with that blonde bird, rather than his preferred spot next to Ringo, Paul's doing surely. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw John tuck his arm under his guitar and shove Stuart off the spot next to him to make the seat open. Stuart slid past Paul and spared him a nasty glare. Paul tried to make his siting look casual but as John looked him in the eye, he blushed.

"S'that-?" John pointed at the notebook . Paul nodded.

"George gave me his notes and stuff to look over-" Paul trailed off as John started playing something unfamiliar on his guitar. It sent chills down his spin, he pressed it against the leather bench and tried to recover the tune from his brain.

"You ever write lyrics, Paul?" John asked off-hand just as Paul realized that the tune was just coming up from John's mind now. It made Paul so giddy he nearly threw up. Never in his life did he expect to catch wind of something John Lennon had yet to bask with his deceivingly profound lyrics. Paul looked at him with his doe eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, I've started some-uh lyrics that'll never be put to use, you know?"

John strummed the guitar and gave Paul an odd look. "And why not?"

"Well, s'just I'll never sing them...."

John's small smirked tugged at his face and nodded. "Rock writers ain't nothing but bitter failed rockers hiding behind their judgement, aye?"

Paul chuckled and shook his head. "George and I are pretty young to call ourselves fake rockers, ain't we? Never really tried to be anyway." Paul shrugged and looked down the aisle where George's laugh came out forced.

"Ain't trying is still failing in me book." John continued to aimlessly strum but stopped, putting his palm against the strings and gave Paul a smug smile. "Give is a tune?"

He shoved the guitar to Paul who looked down oddly at it.

"Well you must know how to play. It'd be pretty sad otherwise-"

Paul turned the guitar round to benefit his left hand and started strumming something he'd come up with in a distant and cloudy dream. He was half expecting John to recognize it as a song that was already in recognition and Paul would have his answer as to why he'd come up with it. But as John listened intently, he didn't see hat happening.

"My my my. The impressive bird has flown." John cooed so strangely it was almost mocking but that was just the way he spoke, wasn't it? Paul flipped the guitar back round and gave it back to John.

"Put some pen to paper and you'll have what many others would kill for, McCartney."

Paul blushed again. "How do I know you won't con it from me, huh?"

John lit a cigarette. "If I needed to con songs, don't think I'd be this far ahead right now, would I Paul?"   
\--------------------------------

The walk to the next hotels lobby was agonizing. He expected George to buy his own room just to get away from Paul. But once they got inside, they checked in just as last time.

The blonde bird was eager to hang about the lobby though. She was leaning against a classic piano, probably the only nice thing in the grotty place and feeding off second hand smoke from George.

"Who's she anyway?" Paul mostly muttered to the what was probably intended to be a white carpet but was in fact brown but Ringo was just near him.

"S'Pattie. She's been about with us for a while. Turns out she's making her move on someone who ain't in the band anyway, odd sort a groupie she is." Ringo rolled his eyes. Paul leaned against the hotel desk and shook his head.

"She doesn't have a bloody chance." Paul chuckled but stiffened at Ringos confused look.

"Whys that-?"

"Nothing. Anyway, there's a few groupies hanging about..."

"Course. We're a randy bunch." Ringo winked. "Stuart's had his end though. Dating some bird, Astrid."

"Didn't stop John, though?"

Ringo chuckled again. "Nah, the lads terminally unhappy."

"So who's-I mean is there a particular groupie-bird- he's brought along, cause I haven't seen him with..." Paul trailed off as Ringo gave him an odd once over. "What?"

Ringo crushed the dead cigarette in his hand and shook his head. "Nothing..." he started to walk off. "None of my business." He whispered to himself, giving a heated glare at Pattie who was sitting on the piano bench and giggling at George.

Paul rolled his eyes. He decided to go up to their room without George. He twirled the key in his hand and whistled as he walked up the stairs and down the hall. Just as he was unlocking the unsteady door, John came out from his room. Same arrangement as it'd been before.

"What's a place like you doing in a guy like this?" John sauntered over and as Paul gave him an amused look, he chuckled.

"You on drugs or something?" Paul teased. John's eyes gave him a glimmer of amusement.

"Nah, just me on my own..." John clicked his tongue. Paul leaned on the door but it gave out and opened, Paul was about to fall flat on the gross carpet but John caught him and brought him back up.

"But maybe you are?"

Paul slapped his arms away. "Ha, shitty door, innit? Shitty place all together for you rockers." Paul made no mistake to lean on the door again.

"S'me favorite part. All these shitty places filled with good people." John bumped their shoulders. "Get by with a little help from my friends, huh?"

Paul chuckled warmly. He started playing with his thumbs and John looked inviting. "How steady s'yer door?" Paul was sure he meant to sound a tiny bit flirty but he wasn't sure why.

"Quite sturdy." John gestured Paul over and started shaking the door. His door remained closed tight and well. "Want to see it from the inside?" John asked, Paul gave him a knowing smirk but nodded so John took his hand and pulled Paul behind him. 

 

Ringo walked up the stairs slowly and down the hall just in time to catch a giddy Paul being pulled into John's room by an eager hand. He scoffed. Unbelievable. He walked into his room and shut the door with his ankle.   
\-------------------------

George offered Pattie a cigarette nearly twenty times but she refused every time. Though every time George blew his smoke out, she breathed it in longingly with a grin on her face.

"Can you play?" She asked, leaning her fingers on the keys. George shrugged.

"Some" he answered.

"I like guys who play...." she pressed the keys and the sounds were awful. George chuckled and sat down on the piano bench next to her, throwing his legs down on either side and tapped the wood.

"Oh? Wouldn't have guessed that me self."

She elbowed him playfully and continued to tap random keys. George played out a tune he knew and she finally took her hands off and just listened. Tucking her dry hair behind her ear.

"How's yer article coming?" She asked, putting her elbow on the lid curiously. George shrugged and looked off.

"Fine, Paul's a little uh- off but it's coming along....." he trailed off.

She stuck her nose in the air. "Funny, I overheard John talking about writing lyrics with him. Told him he should write some for this tune he came up with." She didn't try to sound gloaty but informative.

George stopped playing. "That's rich." George glided his hands off the keys and chuckled bitterly. He didn't start to say anything more so Pattie continued for him.

"easily distracted, is he?" She crossed her legs. George snorted.

"What mother isn't?"

Patties face twisted with confusion but George dismissed her. She shrugged, letting the odd comment pass. She finally took a cigarette from George and went quiet. She twirled it around her fingers and tapped her foot.

"Well, you could always do it without em'. "

"No, wouldn't do that to him. I know he wants this just as much as I do. He's just...off lately. Usually he's the responsible one actually." George chuckled but was sincere with his words. Pattie shrugged.

"You wanna go upstairs...maybe to my room?" She asked slyly. George shuddered on the bench and slid a little away from her.

"Uh-sure." He thought back to that awful summer. The heat had been awful and had gotten to his head. He'd lost his sense of control and began to get incredibly sloppy. He allowed himself to get to involved with a lad, only leading up to no pleasure ending but Paul walking in on them. Thinking about it, George wanted to throw up. And Paul shoving that in his face again that morning was low.

He followed Pattie up the stairs and watched her blonde hair bounce behind her, the split ends spreading out. He tried to ignore his tugging doubts as he climbed the stairs. 

Patties room was dingy, much like the rest of the place he'd seen so far. Her window was open and crooked. She strutted in and lit the cigarette George had given her. She kicked her shoes off and her shorts raised as she sat down. George wasn't sure how he was suppose to go through with this but she didn't seem to randy. She just curled her legs together and waited for George to sit down. And he took the awkward seat next to her. She flicked her hair to one side and smirked. George wiped his suddenly clammy hands on his pants.   
\---------------

Ringo and Stuart were playing cards aimlessly in Ringo room. Patties room was a lighting with the sound of bed springs, Stuart was chuckling. But Ringo was just dealing the cards with a hard face.

"Not cheating are ya Rings?" Stuart asked. Ringo shook his head and tried to put on a happier face.

"Nah. I'm just that good." Ringo smiled and collected the cards after his win. Stuart sighed and stood.

"Gonna go back to my room. Suppose John's not available. I'd like to go over what it is he wants us to sing for our set."

"Sure he's off doing something." Ringo put it lamely and Stuart chuckled.

"Shouldn't he be taking this seriously, this was all his idea."

Ringo nodded, a tad bit annoyed with John himself and maybe a tad bit jealous that John was off with the subject of his affection while He was stuck playing cards with Stu.

"Yeah, well. You know him." Ringo shrugged and Stuart chuckled.

"Yeah, maybe I'll run into him later." Stuart shrugged and walked out the door. Leaving Ringo to clean up the cards while having to over hear Patties bed springs as he shoved them into the package.  
\--------------------

A trickle of tense blood pooled at the corner of Paul's stained lips as he bit them. The fabric of the deflated blanket fell flat in his grip. The rusted springs at the edge of the bed squeaked as John hunched his body forward. His pants gliding from his ankles to tighten against his thighs. He stood, digging his thumbs into the waistband with a look of distaste terminally across his face. Paul wasn't going to move until his chest started to burn. It took a few try's but John's shaky hands lit a cigarette. Paul's gaze only hardened as he watched him. John took the cig between his fingers and held it just in front of Paul's Cupid's bow. "People say they taste best after a meal, I think they're best after a good fuc-"

Paul took the cig and smothered it out on an ashtray. He slipped the blanket from around his waist and pulled his clothes on. His throat clogged as he shoved his shoe on. "Paul?...Paul?" Hearing John ask for him more with curiosity than actual want, made him nervous. Paul tripped on his pant leg and fell into a compromising position, kneeling under John's chin. The breaking in his chest came about as fragile as glass. John swiped the pad of his thumb down Paul's jawbone. And he draped his lips on Paul's as his hands sloppily drew into Paul's hair. A small whimper passed Paul's lips and he raised himself on his knees to gain better access. 

John pulled Paul's face away and shot him a smile. What would have been a grimace had Paul not slipped on his pant leg, was a smile finding confirmation in John's actions. Slowly, Paul stood up again. A little more smug. He particularly liked the way John watched him leave.

When Paul came back to the room, George had yet to return. So Paul laid back on the bed and enjoyed smoking freely in a place where his father couldn't have him in for it. When the door creaked opened, Paul sat up. George entered with his jacket on his arm. "Where've you been?" Paul asked, slightly judgmental, making George chuckle.

"Dunno, where were you?" He asked, mirroring Paul's tone. Paul didn't acknowledge him much and just opened his notebook and started scribbling a few things down.

"Fair." Paul mumbled. "S'just yer younger and easier to get off track." Paul's high and mighty tone had become entirely to ingrained in George's brain.

"By a damn year Paul!" He observed Paul grinning down at his paper and smirked. "You're not even writing the article!" George quickly snatched the book from him. He read over it and threw it down.

"You're writing lyrics for a song that ain't gonna happen! Like John's actually interested in what some clueless lad comes up with! He just doesn't want you to write the article!" George spat and Paul grew heated.

"You don't know what yer talkin' about-!"

"Except that I do! He's making it seem like he's interested in your lyrics to make himself look good and to focus you on writing that fantasy bullshit instead of our article!"

Paul didn't want to believe that, especially since he'd just slept with the man. He looked at George with dead cold eyes.

"And where were you?! Up Patties skirt cause yer too damn afraid to admit yer queer-!?" Paul shouted and his throat went incredibly hoarse. George narrowed his eyes with disbelief and anger.

They both lunged at the same time. They knocked each other to the hotels cheap and dirty carpet. They thrashed around trying to ignore their doubts in favor of their anger and threw punches at each other like they'd never done before, in fact Paul never really had been in many physical fights in his life and he doubted George had been either. They were a lot louder than they had intended to be, loud enough that their door flung open to their annoyed neighbor, Stuart.

"The hell?" He shouted and ran over, plucking Paul off of George. Drawn to the attention, John fled from across the hall and came to their door way. Stuart gave him a dirty look and shoved Paul towards him. "Told ya, bringing these kids along was a mistake." Stuart shoved off and walked out of the room. Paul was again knocked further into John's arms.

John caught Paul in his arms as George stood up, wiping his mouth. "What's gone one with you two?" John asked as Paul wiggled out of John's grip. George glared at John.

"I'm going." George started to shuffle out.

"Where are you going?" Paul asked.

"Don't be a hypocrite, Paul!" Was all George shouted after him. Paul scoffed and watched him dart away from the scene they'd caused. The back of Paul's mind was wondering if that was in fact where George had been.

"The fuck was that Paul?" John pressed him with a wicked look in his eyes. Paul embarrassed more than anything, avoided eye contact with John with shame. "Ya can't piss off me band like that, cause I'll be under the heat for it cause I brought ya!"

"M'sorry. Right pissed me off he did." Paul mumbled a poor excuse. He started to walk off to his bed and John followed him.

"So what'd he do?"

Paul was embarrassed enough, he didn't really want to tell John that he was the reason for the fight. He shrugged, leaning forward. John shifted and crawled next to Paul.

"I'd rather not think about it right now." Paul shuddered as John nodded, not entirely understanding. Paul pushed everything George said out of his immediate thoughts and blushed under John's eyes.


	6. The show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PSA: This story has never been completed! I probably won't ever get back around to it, sadly! But I do love the 10 chapters written so I put them out!

John's eyes were roaming Paul's face, and he pulled his own down to press his lips against his cold skin. It made Paul shiver with repressed delight. "Mmm I think I love you." Johns tone should've been light and joking but it wasn't and it made Paul push him back a little.

"What a daft thing to say. " Paul glared. And John chuckled.

"Whys that?"

"Well it's moving things a little fast-"

"We've already had sex-" John pointed out and Paul rolled his eyes. "And I think part of being a songwriter makes me a little more emotional" John moved back to kiss Pauls neck. Just as Paul's toes were beginning to curl there were sharp bangs against the door.

"John!" Brian's voice erupted and terminally killed the randy buzz in Paul's mood. John's hair brushed along the crevice of Paul's collarbone as he put his forehead down on his shoulder.

"Shove off, Brian!" John shouted back.

"We have to go over the set list for the show tonight!" Brian's voice was the angriest Paul'd ever heard it but he doubted it was the same for John.

John slowly tipped his head back up and looked Paul dead in the eyes. "I'm busy!"

"You can do your interview with Paul later!" Brian shouted back, a moment of relief passed over Paul. He'd spent the short shouting match thinking that Brian must know what they've been up to. John snickered and put his lips to Paul's shoulder.

"He's stimulating me brain!" John shouted, muffled against Paul's skin.

"God knows you need it." Brian mumbled but the dingy door didn't block it. "I suggest you go over to Stuart's room now!" Brian stepped away. As the steps were followed by the hit of Stuart's door, Paul allowed John a few more minutes to turn his skin pink before he pushed the corner of his shoulder. He pushed his knuckle under his nose and dragged his thumb across his bottom lip.

"You should go. Only have a bit left until the show...." Paul trailed off as John did a sort of curious flick of his tongue. Paul pulled his knees to his chin and toyed with the end of his pant leg. John interlocked their hands together and waved them about.

"My my, your lust for me might be lost if I ain't rocking anymore...." John rose from the bed. Paul rolled his bottom lip under his teeth and shrugged, making John laugh wildly. Paul crawled to the end of the bed and watched John walk towards the door. "This is life on the road, Paul."

Paul quirked his eyebrow and silently asked for an elaboration. "Interruptions." John walked back over to stand in front of him. "I'm gonna need you backstage where I can see ya." John gave him a final long sweet smile. Paul fiercely nodded and John laid his hands against his cheeks. "We'll have a good time." John kissed him. And Paul straightened his back with a happiness that made him cockier and then with a final wink, John left the room. And Paul was alone. Without much left to do until the show, Paul shoved himself under the sheets. Squeezing his eyes shut and wondering just exactly where George had flocked off to. He'd try to push it off but it stayed like a bad taste in his mouth.   
\-----------------------------------

George could've stewed in the lobby or done something other than what he was doing but he let the air rush past him as he stormed down the halls. His feet were numb. His chest was numb. His whole god damn body was numb. When he got to the heavy hotel doors, he pushed them open without so much as a second thought. He was holding back frustrated tears without even trying. He didn't know about where he was but it wasn't going to stop him. What he hadn't realized about therapeutic walks was that the only sounds he could hear was the soundtrack of his own angry breathing which wasn't calming. He walked with his hands shoved in his pockets, his fingernails pressing into his palms as he kept his eyes on the ground. As he found the kind of club he was looking for, he put on a false confidence and hauled himself in. The steady air of the change of the time of the day transferred into a heavy smoky filtered air. His shaking legs managed to walk up to the bar where the bartender gave him an odd look. But he filled a pint up anyway and slid it to George with ease.

"Looks like you need it." He looked George up and down as he took a seat on the stool. George straightened his back and took a sip from it. "If you're looking for company, this place is filled with just that." He remarked while gesturing to the solid number of customers.

"Just what I want." George tried to keep any nerves from splitting through his voice. He put his pint down and took subtle glances at the men just around the bar area and swallowed, pointing his chin up. His mind was forgetting to remind him that this was a bad idea just as he made eye contact with some lad. 

 

And soon enough his fingers were strung about the same lads hair and he was whispering soft and slow. The air was nearly grainy as he pressed his head back on the brick. Now was no time to think of Paul but that's just where his mind had been captivated. He let out a small gasp and felt a break down of pleasure that made him feel low the second it was over. The lad gave George a final look and wiped the back of his hand over his hooked mouth and strutted away. He dropped his chin and looked down at his shoes. The most he could let out was a strangled sort of whine as he pushed himself off the wall and went back to the bar, leaving the money for the bartender and sped out of the dark in a slightly buzzed strut. He'd have to go back to the vacant hotel room and wait until Paul got back and they'd probably go at it again. But he didn't have much of a choice. They'd all be at the show by the time he got there. So at lest he'd have alone time. He rubbed his hands together in the brisk air.   
\-----------------------------------

Paul was pacing back and forth outside the hotel doors as The band loaded up their gear into the bus. Just as they finished and started to settle themselves inside, John walked slowly up to Paul and gripped his arms.

"Paul, we've got to go now. George's eighteen years old, I'm sure he's fine." John tried to meet Pauls eyes as they danced along the street still looking anxiously around. "He'd probably want some alone time, aye?"

Paul nodded. "Suppose so. But-"

"Well call the hotel room when we get there, ok?" John took Pauls hand and started to pull him up to the bus. Paul let him and followed him onto it. Passing Stuart and Ringo's annoyed stares as they sat down on the same bench they'd always sat on. John swung his guitar out of its case and set it in his lap to calmly strum it as the bus started up.

"How ya coming on those lyrics?" John asked, clicking his tongue. Paul shrugged and John passed the guitar over to him . "Well I'd like to hear the tune again."

Paul blushed and started strumming, Johns face lit up. "There's just something about you, McCartney."

Stuart's eyes burned into the back of Johns head.   
\--------------------------------

As John curled his hand around the microphone to shout into it, he felt Stuart behind him.

"You have to quit this while your ahead John." He whispered and John started to introduce them to the roaring crowd. "Messing about with some nineteen year old. You have to focus on this so called band that you claim to care about and bringing along a rock writer along with us cause you want to fuck him is not that."

John breathed slowly and went on with the introduction like he wasn't hearing him. "He's just going to write shit about us and we'll have you to blame for that, you know that right?" The question burned at Johns ear.

"This next songs called-uh." John stumbled on his words and Ringo tapped his drums lightly as if reminding John what song they were suppose to be playing.

"I hear your asking him for lyrics now too....you can't get attached to him cause he's only gonna hurt ya and you'll have proof of it all in glorified writing in a month or so."

John gripped the microphone harder and glanced over at Paul who was standing on the wings with the biggest smile he'd ever seen on his face. He gave John a hesitant thumbs up and John wanted to throw up.   
\------------------------------

"Hello?"

"I'm fine, just at the hotel..." George trailed off and waited for Paul to say something. "Just didn't have the energy to go the show with ya."

"Where'd you go?" Paul balanced the phone between his cheek and shoulder and played with his thumbs. George sighed on the other end.

"Out for a drink....you ok there?" George asked with sincere concern. Paul smiled.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Listen, George. I'm really sorry for what I said. I just...don't think that's what Johns doing." Paul suddenly seemed nervous as he spoke. He could almost feel George's disagreement. "He's, uh. Been really sweet-"

"Paul....you're not. I mean- uh sleeping with him are you?" George had never questioned Pauls sexuality but to hear him describe John in that tone of voice, he just had to pen his mouth. The line was quiet and that was all the conformation he needed. "I didn't even know you were queer..." George suddenly felt like tears were welling up in his eyes again.

"In all fairness-" Paul turned his head back and looked as John and the others got off stage. John was tossed a towel and he wiped his face of the sweat that was highlighting his cheeks. "Neither did I..."

"That's not fair..." George mumbled to himself but Paul caught it.

"What do you mean-?" Paul bit the end of his jacket sleeve.

"You don't get-huh, I was fine when I thought I couldn't have you cause you were straight but...and you didn't-do you know how fucking hard it was for me to find out I wasn't straight? And here's you on the other end of this damn line just plain glowing. You shouldn't just get to skip the struggle!" George was shouting by the end of his words, Paul could tell he was starting to cry. Pauls chest started to ache.

"George-?"

"You're his groupie" George sucked in breath as he realized everything. "He only invited you for sex.....and I bet ya he's got you backstage mouthing the words to the love songs he wrote for his wife-!"

"Stop!" Paul shouted. And George went silent. "We've only done it once. And you don't know what he's said to me in private."

"What's he said?"

"That...he uh...loves me." Paul was embarrassed to put it out there but he didn't want to be.

"Bet he said it after you had sex, right?" George's voice was stuck up and Paul wanted to scream. "I just want you to be happy Paul and-"

"What's happy then? Being with you?" Paul went accusatory and George clamped his mouth shut. "I'll see ya later, George." Paul slammed the phone down and put his hand on the wall, taking in heavy breaths and thought about what George had said. 

 

 

John took his face out of the towel and looked up at his band. Ringo was thumping his drumsticks across his lap and Stuart was lounging on the couch next to him. Brian was off to the side, checking over some things and making sure they had everything. "And you all feel this way?" John asked with narrowed eyes.

Stuart began "yeah-"

"Not asking ya, Stu. Ringo, Brian?" John turned away from Stuart and to the lads.

"Well, in best interest for the band. If you get too distracted I don't know how I could shape a good enough band out of you lot... I have a hard enough time managing you-"

"Ok so Stuart and Brian make two, Ringo?" John shut Brian up and looked at Ringo. He was quieter and didn't seem like he wanted to answer. John took the silence as a yes, Ringo hadn't meant it that way though.

"Fine. Then Paul and George will go, ok?" John spat as he stormed out of the dressing room. Ringo sighed and ran his hand through his hair.   
\--------------------------------

John strutted around the corner as Paul finally pulled himself from the wall and stopped dead as he stood in front of John. Johns face was neutral and he couldn't draw a solid emotion from him so he nervously began speaking.

"George's fine. At the hotel and all-"

"You two have to go. The band voted." Johns voice was stiff and Paul dropped his hands to his side.

"The band voted..? What about you? I mean-"

"What's another groupie lost, anyway?" John laughed and it made Paul ill. He looked at John with utter disbelief.

"But you said- and my song-"

"I say a lot of things Paul. You're a groupie, you don't write songs...your the sex that inspires them" John said with heavy arrogance and Paul with all his instinct, reached over and punched him square in the jaw. John fell down on the ground and rubbed at his jaw and looked up at Paul with shock.

But Paul didn't offer anything else, he just turned off and ran for the door. As John sat on the ground rubbing at his chin he worried about Paul walking back to the hotel alone at night. He supposed he didn't have the right to think that but he did.   
\-------------------------------

When Paul finally got back to the hotel room he ran right in a slammed the door. George was sitting on his bed.

"I guess we're gonna fight then-" George started but he saw a few tears streaming down Pauls cheeks.

"You were right....he's asked us to leave. I'm sorry I ruined this for us." Paul mumbled as he started to pull out his suitcase. George kneeled down next to him and looked him in the eye.

"What happened-?"

"Dunno. He called me a groupie though, ain't that rich? The band voted, we need to go." Paul scoffed and started throwing his clothes inside.

"I'm sorry, Paul."

"Yeah...."

"You should go to sleep. We can go in the morning." George pulled the case from Pauls bed and set it on the floor. "Fuckin, rock stars. " George shook his head and bumped Pauls shoulder.

Paul pulled George into a hug and shook. "I'm sorry"

"S'fine."

"I think I love him though."

"That's the daftest thing I've heard. You've only just-"

As Paul kept crying, George just let that statement fade and just clutched Paul tighter and pretended the situation wasn't what it was. He took a breath and breathed in Pauls scent and let go of him immediately. "If it makes you feel any better, you were right about me being on my way to sleeping with Ringo. "

"You mean-?"

"It wasn't like John though. I don't think he is um, gay but I was definitely trying to make a move." George laughed, despite everything so did Paul. "Anyway, we can call her dad tomorrow and he can come get us." George nodded and Paul sighed, sitting back on his bed.

"He's gonna love telling me that he was right. God I'm sorry I ruined Rolling Stone for us George." Paul had never looked more fragile to George.

"Let's just forget about it. Not everything works out." George shrugged. He could see Paul wanting to protest but he got into his bed and turned his light off so Paul would get the hint that their conversation was over. Eventually, he heard Paul shuffle into his bed and it went quiet.   
\-----------------------------------

John came back into the dressing room rubbing at his already bruised chin. Ringo was the only one left there. The other two had gone back to wait at the bus. "He punch ya?"

"No Ringo, I did this to me self." John rolled his eyes and Ringo scoffed. "If you would've said something, I wouldn't have had to do it."

"What do you mean-?"

"Would've been two against two."

"And-?"

"And George could still hang around with us. Tell me you didn't like the kid." John rolled his eyes again. Ringo looked utterly perplexed. "Anyway. This sucks."

Ringo sunk down on the couch as John came back around and handed him a beer, sitting down next to him. As Ringo sipped at his, John put his own beer against his jaw. "You mess around with a lot of groupies, John."

"Yeah.. But Paul was-" he looked at Ringo who looked completely interested. "I can have feelings, you know?"

"Never said you couldn't, s'just you never have." Ringo chuckled a little. "So Paul was different?"

"He's gonna be famous, you know? He showed me one tune of his and it didn't have any lyrics and it had me floored." John scoffed. "I hate that."

Ringo and John silently finished their drinks, feeling an odd sort of connection before they finally dragged themselves outside to the bus where Brian and Stu were waiting. Brian was ready to push it off like it never happened but John knew Stuart would be milking his anger and judgement for as long as he could. John sat down on the same bench and stared out the window the whole damn ride.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun blared through the window over Pauls bed and he dragged himself up wards, rubbing his hands down his face and pressing especially hard on his eyes. He glanced over the pile of sheets he'd created in his sleep and found George, his arm flung off the side of his own bed. He glided his hands from his face and through the hair going to the back of his neck. He sniffled, feeling the morning glaze in his eyes. The sun gleamed directly into his eyes, he half-closed them and saw his own eyelashes. He threw the sheet off of him and swung his legs over the side of the bed, hovering them slightly above the carpet. When he finally pressed his feet down on the carpet, he realized he was only wearing one sock. He slowly walked past George's bed and went to the loo. His energy was drained, he leaned on the sink before finally starting his routine. The plastic toothbrush was hanging out of his mouth when he heard George start to get up and shuffle about, most likely collecting things to pack. He leaned over, cracking his back and rinsed his mouth out. He heard George zip his case and let out a shaking sigh. Paul finally curled his hand around the doorknob and exited the loo.

George was kneeling on his bed and throwing a few things in his case and Paul just strolled past, sitting back down on his bed. "Do you want to call yer da or...? I could see if there's buses going round our route?" George was trying to be patient for Pauls sake. Paul continued to stare off at the window, weather it was him dazing off or just plain ignoring the issue at hand, George didn't know. "Paul...? Paul?" George pressed him, kneeling forward.

Paul hunched his shoulders and sighed, trailing his hands down his legs. "No, I'll call him." Paul reluctantly shoved off the bed and went to the hotel phone. George went back to throwing his clothes in the case. Paul dialed and waited with anxious breath.

"Hello?" His fathers solid voice answered and Paul almost hung up. He sat back on the edge of the bed and stuttered for a second or two before speaking.

"Da, s'Paul-"

"I have t gotten a call in how long, Paul. I'd like an explanation-!"

"You gotta come get us..." Paul hiccuped and his father went silent. "Da-?"

"I heard, Paul. What's happened?" His father was concerned and it made Paul all the more nervous. He strained his eyes and looked over at George for something. But George wasn't looking.

"Um...nothing it's just not working out. We'd like to go home that's all." Paul tried to sound confident but he could tell it wasn't convincing in the least.

"Alright, well tell me where you are then." His father said in a quiet voice. And Paul told him their location, pulling his legs up on the bed. "I'll be there late today or early tomorrow." Jim hung up and Paul took the phone from his ear, lowering it to his lap but not hanging it up. George finally quirked his head up as he heard the continuing buzz from the phone. He hoped ip from his bed, snatched the phone from Paul and hung it up for him.

"He said he'll be here late today or early tomorrow." Paul said flatly and leaned back on the headboard of the bed. George sighed.

"Listen, Paul I know this place you might want to go to later." George tried to make Paul feel better.

"What do you know around here-?" Paul cut himself off as George started to look embarrassed. "Oh...ok." Paul nodded to himself and George took that as conformation and went back to his bed, turning the radio on as he sat. The station it was on played through static. Both of them knew they couldn't really leave the hotel room without the possibility of running into the band. So they sat there like the day rolling into the night might only take a few minutes. Soon enough, the radio introduced something quite familiar.

"Here is 'Johnny and the Moondogs' " the hearty radio tone voice made Paul pick his head up sharply. George looked at it in panic but before he could do much or anything, Paul shot up from the bed and knocked it off the stand. And then he just stood there, George looked at him with a gaped mouth.

"You ok, now?" George asked with a mild chuckle. Paul chuckled a bit too and sat down on George's bed.

"No." He said but he didn't break down or anything like that. He just continued to chuckle and George just let him go on while he watched him. "So about that place-?"

"Oh yeah, I went there when you pissed me off and uh- it's a good place to uh distract herself." George nodded awkwardly. Paul nodded too.

"Sounds good." Paul got up from George's bed, George sighed as he walked back to his own bed. "S'there anything to do while we're stuck here?" Paul asked and George looked around the hotel room for anything they could do and all he found was a pack of playing cards. He got up and collected it and brought himself to Pauls bed, holding it out in front of Pauls face. He started unpacking the cards and setting up their game on Pauls bed. Paul watched him, anxiously rubbing at his nose. The game started with silence and went on just the same.

As they were playing, they suddenly heard noise from outside their door. Paul snapped his head up when he heard Johns voice. George felt mild panic as he watched Paul start to detach himself from their game and start to deflate. So he reached out and grabbed Pauls chin and faced him back to the game.

"Whoever loses buys the winners drinks at the bar." George gave Paul a small smile and Paul returned it. He seemed to perk up enough after that, that They could get through several games. And by the end of it, Paul had won.   
\-----------------------------

John woke up with a splitting headache and threw his glasses on. He stretched and sat up in his bed and shoved out of the tight tuck of his sheets. His bare feet padded against the carpet as he grabbed his suitcase, throwing it over his bed. He wasn't careful about throwing his stuff inside and pulled on some pants before he opened the door to his room. Stuart was already leaning against his own doorway, smoking lightly from his cigarette.

"We have time to go out tonight before we gotta leave?" John asked, snatching Stuart's cig pack and pulling one put for himself. He lit it with his own lighter and dragged it, waiting for an answer.

"What are you thinking about?" Stuart teasingly started thrusting his curled hand back and forth in a teasing gesture but John slapped it back down.

"Drinks, arsehole." John said flatly but Stuart just kept laughing. "I'll go ask Brian then." He shoved past him and knocked on Brian's door. Stuart never left his doorway. Brian thrust the door open, looking well and put together for the early hours.

"When will we be off again?" John asked.

"John wants to know when we're getting off!" Stuart shouted from behind him. Making the same gesture as he'd been doing before. When John still didn't look slightly amused, he stopped. "S'no fun when you can't take what ya dish out John."

"Shuddup wanker." John turned to look at him momentarily before turning back to Brian. "Well?"

"Well be leaving late tonight." Brian answered, unamused by either of them. "Will it mean anything to you if I ask you to not get too drunk so you're not hungover for the next show-?"

"No." John said smugly and shut the door in Brian's face. "You're a right pisser, Stuart." John said as he pushed himself into Stuart's room. Stuart laughed as he followed him inside.

"Well, I don't think that's such a bad thing." He laughed again. Just as he was about to speak again, Pattie swung around their doorway with a grin on her face.

"Had to leave the show early last night, Sheryl was mad drunk. How'd it go?" She asked, still hanging off the door way. He blonde hair falling off her shoulder as she jammed the toe of her shoe on the floor.

Stuart walked over and took her hand and walked her inside. Sitting her down on his bed. "John's little wonder boy and his mate have been invited to leave."

Pattie frowned, crossing her legs and sticking her hand under her thigh. "Oi, haven't gotten my shot with George yet." She sighed. Just as Ringo stepped into the room, hair tossed but seemingly collected for the morning. Pattie slid a cig from Stuart and held it up to him, he took it gratefully.

"We're going out for drinks later, coming I suppose?" John asked but already expected his answer. Ringo nodded, voice probably still splitting with morning hoarseness.

"So why've they gone?" Pattie asked.

"Distractions the both of them."

"Oi, like you didn't have any before Astrid?" Pattie scoffed. Stuart put out his cigarette.

"Emphasis on before, love." Stuart tapped her head. She looked disgusted. John looked up at Stuart with an annoyed glare. "John's still with Cyn-"

John shot up from his seat and made his way to the farther ash tray. Tapping Ringo on the shoulder on his way. Ringo tapped his hand and stood to follow him. They stood at the farther corner.

Pattie looked up at Stuart with mild aggression. "They still around or did they leave?" She pulled at her shorts.

"Dunno. Their room was next door, you could go see." Stuart begrudgingly shrugged and looked off towards John and Ringo, whispering to themselves.

Pattie stood up and turned on her heels. "Think I will." And she pushed herself out his door again. Ringo craned his neck and watched her go, taking a long drag. Stuart narrowed his eyes at the action.

"Don't tell me yer after Pattie, Ringo?" Stuart bent his knee and walked over to them.

"Sod off" Ringo tossed his dead cig into the ashtray and John scowled.

"Ok John, the comment was a pisser but do you have go gossip like a bird with Ringo?" Stuart chuckled and John leaned back on the wall.

"Oi, we gossip a lot of the time. 'Bout more than just you." John gave a sly smile and clicked his tongue, pushing off the wall. Stuart patted his back and they walked back to the middle of the room.

"We inviting Brian to our drinks?" Stuart asked and John snickered.

"Yer not invited yerself." Ringo laughed. Stuart scoffed.

"That's fine. Astrids coming down tonight. She'll be tagging along for a few stops." Stuart shrugged. John bit his lip.  
"She said she invited Cynthia but she's not coming."

John breathed a sigh of relief. "Right well..."   
\-----------------

Pattie strolled right from Stuart's room to the door next to it. She knocked at it and bounced from heel to toe. George answered the door, a goofy grin on his face.

"You're still here." Pattie grinned and George nodded, face going neutral. "You free for drinks before you go?"

George looked back towards the room. Paul was counting the cards and looking rather happy. "Sorry, Paul and I are gonna be packing and-"

Pattie rose her hand to his face. "Ok, I get it." She smiled. "Have fun." She put on a happier face. But as soon as George shut the door, she turned off and let out a frustrated huff. She passed right by Stuart's open door way, he cocked his head and watched her. He chuckled.

"Guess they're still around." He brought his head back in and turned back to John and Ringo, whispering again. They looked up as he said that.

It was nearing mid afternoon now, John stood up and urged Ringo to follow. "We're gonna head out now, tell Brian I'll be sodding drunk when I come back, will ya?" John patted his shoulder and they fled. Stuart stuck up his nose and waited for Astrid.  
\------------------------

When the afternoon started to roll into its end, George decided he could take Paul to the bar. They packed up the cards and George directed him out of the hotel, pretending not to notice Paul's longing look at John's door. 

He guided Paul around the town, blushing a little as Paul held on the the edge of his sleeve to avoid getting lost. The bar somehow was a lot less intimating with Paul on his arm. The men in the place, looked them over upon entry and Paul peeked in interest. He took Paul over to the bar, the same bartender giving George an impressed look.

"Your company?" He asked but George shook his head.

"Nah, Paul's here to find some of his own, yeah?" George bumped his shoulder and Paul looked away bashfully.

"Well he should have no problem." He looked Paul up and down and served them their pints. Where George expected the same bashfulness, he was met by Paul sloshing down the drink.

When Paul finished around three drinks, he turned to George. "Maybe it's best, you don't hang about me. I'll never find any one that way, will I?"

George stiffened. "Yeah, yeah..." he pushed off the bar and went to explore the place. He had a hard time trying not to look back to find Paul's location every few minutes. Eventually, George found some distant looking lad and kept himself busy. 

And again, George was flat against the wall, withering like a dying flower. His breathing in hoarse whispers. And of course his eyes landed on Paul. He watched Paul mindlessly flirt with the back of some lads head. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb. The lad came up but George kept going a few seconds longer. 

 

Paul giggled and fluttered his eyelashes but he wasn't having much fun. He slurped down the last of whatever number drink and his throat burned. 

 

John threw his arm around Ringo and stopped at the doors of the bar. "Almost thought we wouldn't find one."

Ringo cringed but brushed it off, ready to go in. And John directed him inside.

"Thanks by the way....John."

John looked at Ringo and shrugged. "For what?"

"For understanding" Ringo shrugged and John brushed him off.

"Yeah, we share repressed queer feelings for men. Gotta stick together, eh?" John teased as the got up to the bar. Ringo laughed. They got their pints and checked out the crowd.

John watched Ringos eyes land and widen. "See someone you like then?" John laughed. And Ringo nodded.

"Yeah, look." Ringo pointed and John followed it right to a table where George Harrison sat, looking as if he was brushing himself off. John's mouth fell agape.

"Shit." He turned back and forced Ringo to do the same, which he did reluctantly did.

"Think Paul's here?" Ringo asked and John scowled.

"What do you think, Ringo?" He hissed. John looked as if lost in thought. Debating what they should do. As John was dragging his hands down his face, he tipped his chin, his eyes landed right on Paul who was shoving his tongue down some lads throat. Ringo followed John's eyes and found the sight.

"Oh....John?"

It seemed like Paul opened his eyes as he continued kissing the lad, almost like he felt their eyes on him. Ringo watched Paul's eyes lock on John's. he saw mild shock turn into complete power in his upper hand. So Paul kept the eye contact and as he continued the heated snog.

"Don't do anything rash-John!" Ringo shouted as John shoved past the crowd in the opposite direction of Paul. Leaving Ringo alone at the bar. He locked around the bar awkwardly, hoping he could find something to keep him busy.

Soon enough, George went up to find Paul's location and found Ringos instead. His eyes widened and he, in impulse shot up to him. He tapped Ringos shoulder.

"Hi." Ringo breathed in and waited for George's reaction.

"I didn't know you were-uh" George looked around the bar.

"Neither did I" Ringo chuckled but George stiffened at the comment.

"Listen, I wish you guys weren't being forced to leave-"

"Well," George began, nose stuck up in the air. "I doubt you weren't involved in a band decision mate." George shrugged.

"I didn't know what to say, Brian was a jai ally threatening to quit as our manager because-"

"Of two rock writers-!"

"Of two distractions!" Ringo shouted. George frowned but took a hold of Ringos hand and started pulling him to one of the private areas.

"George-?"

"Lot of tension, lets express it shall we?" George chuckled slightly and Ringo followed with a blushed grin.   
\------------------------

As soon as John was out of his sight, Paul pulled from the lads lips and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. The lad looked at him wildly but Paul just took another dragged out sip of his drink. He helplessly looked around for George but found him nowhere. The taste in his throats was vile. He excused himself and fled for the loo.

The loo was blinding with bright white lights and Paul immediately broke out into a hot sweat. He kneeled down and spent the remainder of the awful night spewing his guts out into the loo. His forearm resting against the rim and he immediately regretted the whole night. After a while, he curled up against the cold wall, thumping his head against it and wiped his hand across his vile mouth. He stretched his legs out and decided to just wait there until George remembered to find him at the end of his night.


	8. Wanting and having

George continued pulling Ringo by the arm, determined and excited, behind him through the randy crowd. His breathing was rushed and his throat was burning. Though he felt a stall, being pulled back as Ringo stopped. Ringo was brushing his hand against his now soaking jacket. George grimaced as the alcohol dropped from his sleeve.

"Sorry-"

"You know, i'd better go find John. It's making me quite nervous thinking about what he might be doing." Ringo shook his sleeve. George clamped his mouth shut, rolling his lips together.

"Nothing against you-"

"Yeah, yeah....s'fine. I should actually try and find Paul." George nodded as Ringo patted his shoulder and left. George stood there for a few seconds, looking past the crowd in an attempt to spot Paul. Not seeing him anywhere, George headed for the bar. The bartender gave him a friendly grin.

"You see my mate, Paul anywhere?"

"Think he went to the bathroom." He pointed to the door. George shot him a thankful smile and headed for the door. The loo door creaked open and Paul was sitting on the disgusting tile. George kicked the door shut with his foot and went over to him, kneeling down and putting his hand gently over Paul's knee.

"Paul..? We need to go, yer da might be coming tonight." George poked his shoulder and Paul watched him with bleary drunk eyes.

"I hope not. He'd be quite pissed." Paul mumbled, wiping his mouth. George smiled.

"Lets go then. Well get you some water on the way out." George grabbed Paul's hands to try and pull him up but Paul just held onto his hands, pulling him down instead.

"You're so good to me..." Paul looked right into George's eyes, sending George into a mild panic and Paul started sitting up.

"Lets go-"

Paul cut George off by pressing his lips against George's. Paul tasted sort of vile but George didn't care, he was melting right into it. His breathing became rushed and wanting as He wanted to tangle his hand in Paul's hair, he began to whisper near Paul's temple, nose pressed near Paul's hairline.

"I'd be so good for you Paul. You have no idea how much-" George's sincere whispers slowly faded as Paul went limp, head falling on George's shoulder as he passed out cold into his lap. George slowly let his hand fall down to stroke Paul's hair like he'd wanted to, he bit down so hard on his lip that it drew blood.

"You're not going to remember this...." George's throat tightened and he rubbed his fingertips under his eyes with one of the most painful sighs. George tried to pull Paul up and started to walk him out to the bar. The bartender came round and helped him sit Paul down. "You got a ride back?" He asked, honestly worried. 

"We walked." George cringed as he looked at Paul, face down on the bar. He kept up some chat with the bartender in hopes that Paul would eventually gain some energy.

"What's happened?" Ringo pulled from the crowd, John shuffling after him.

"Paul's out of it." George explained, feeling guilty that he'd let this happen to Paul.

"I'm hoping he gets up, we walked-"

"We'll drive ya back." John interrupted with his eyes directly on Paul in such a heated caring way it made George uncomfortable and he curled up on the bar. George wished he could refuse but Paul needed the ride.

"Alright."

George paid the bartender and he went to help Paul up but John got to him first. 

 

As they trudged up their stairs, Brian was standing there, arms crossed and waiting against his doorway as they slowly walked past. "George?" Brian gestured him over as Ringo and John helped Paul to the room. George walked a few steps back and stood. In front of the band manager nervously.

"What happened?" Brian asked, neutral to emotion.

"Paul and I went to a bar, he's sloshed." George went for the simple explanation.

"And John and Ringo-?"

"Happened to be there, drove us home." George stuttered. Brian nodded, running his finger under his chin. 

 

John and Ringo set Paul on his bed and Ringo turned to leave but John stayed put. "You coming? Only have a bit till we have to leave." Ringo looked down at his watch.

"Just gonna get him some water." John said, shuffling to get a cup to the sink. Ringo gave an understanding smile.

"Alright, I'll put some of your stuff together." He left the door way as John came back in front of Paul with the cup. He kneeled down as Paul's eyes fluttered.

"You feel like sobering up, macca?" He said in a soft voice, putting the cup in Paul's hand. Paul looked down into the cup and put it to his lips with a groan.

John couldn't help but push some of Paul's hair back behind his ear, feeling Paul's damp temple. Paul bashfully smiled and sipped the water.

"You'll be having a killer hangover tomorrow." John was only going to keep talking out loud to himself if Paul didn't start replying.

"Better feeling than having to talk to you sober though huh?" Paul swallowed and leaned over to place the cup down. John just had to chuckle at that.

"Yeah, maybe.-"

"But I'm drunk now so..."Paul shrugged, a grin spreading on his face.

" 'fraid it'd be deceiving if I stayed here just because you like me when yer drunk." John stood but Paul frowned.

"Since when do you care about things like that?" Paul smirked but he hiccuped and put his hand over his mouth.

"Paul-?"

"I'd really like it if ya didn't witness me throwing up." Paul rushed the statement put before rushing to the loo and shutting the door. John chuckled and went to turn out the door.

"Wait!" He heard Paul call. And he went over to the door.

"Don't leave." Paul whispered and John laughed.

"I thought I couldn't witness you puking yer guts out, little lady." John chuckled.

"The doors shut, ain't it?" Paul laughed, John sunk to the floor and leaned on the door. He heard a few chokes from Paul that stopped after a few seconds.

"How are ya feeling?" John leaned his head back on the door.

"Gettin better." Paul's voice was lighter and wispy. It pulled a little at John's chest.

"Couldn't get much worse." He mumbled to himself.

"What?" Paul's voice asked from the other side of the door.

"Nothing, nothing." John mumbled. "How's that song of yours?"

"Grand!" Paul was most likely smiling. 

 

 

George finally broke from his brief conversation with Brian and went back to his room. When he entered, he found John leaning on the loo door.

"His da coming?" John asked and George shrugged.

"I was gonna call him. You can go now." George said quite sharply and John stood up.

"Think Paul's fallin' asleep on the loo floor. Stopped answering me a couple minutes ago." John chuckled but George remained dead silent.

"Alright. I'm off, tell Paul I said goodbye."

"Why would I do that?" George muttered quietly but John turned.

"You wanna say that louder Harrison?" John's voice was sharp and threatening.

"He's pissed at ya. You're quite shitty if ya asked me-"

" didn't have a choice! Me band was ready to call it quits unless I had ya kicked off!" John shouted. "Trust me, I wanted Paul around!" John spat and he turned out, slamming the door after him. George strolled over and opened the loo door, Paul stirred awake and George helped him to his bed, he knocked out again soon after.

George sighed, picking up and dialing the phone. "Mr. McCartney? It's George, I was wondering-" 

"I'll be there tomorrow morning. How are things?"

"Fine. Fine, Paul's good. I'll see ya then." George sighed and Jim hung up. His eyes fell directly on Paul, snoring in his bed. From his own bed, George let the phone fall in his lap.

While Paul was asleep, it was so quiet and George nearly missed it but Paul whispered in an excited whimper, "John."

George curled back to lean on his headboard, pulling the sheets up to his chin. The tears were slow built as they rolled down his cheeks. He kept his eyes on Paul's figure as he mumbled.

"You have no idea...." George whispered, now flooding with tears. "I love you."

George fell asleep while talking  
\--------------------

John shoved out of Paul's room and crossed over to his own, Ringo was putting his stuff together like the good mate he didn't deserve .

"Ta, Rings." He thanked him in a hoarse voice, paying his back as he walked over and Ringo smiled.

"Yer welcome. 'Sides of you did it you'd be missing half yer things." He chuckled and John sat down on the bed.

"You alright?" Ringo asked.

"You think we could convince Brian to let them tag along?" John asked, knowing the answer.

"You know the answer John. Besides his fathers coming to pick them up." Ringo shrugged and sat down next to John. "I'm not eager to leave George behind..."

"I hate leaving too. I skipped out on George's invite for sex." Ringo chuckled as John gaped his mouth.

"Why? You adore the lad."

"Ah well, we're leaving. 'Sides I think he's more interested in Paul."

John narrowed his eyes. "Puppy crush, all it is." Ringo brushed it off. John didn't seem like he wanted to do the same. Ringo patted his knee and leapt up.

"I'll see ya later." 

John pushed his suitcase aside and laid across his bed.   
\----------------------

Paul woke up in the middle of his sleep and crawled over to his notebook as his own tune struck in his head. He mumbled the tune of the song he'd been working on and thoughts of John poured in. He bit his lip and kept writing as the lyrics came to him.

"Yesterday..." Paul repeated the word in the correct tune. He quietly wondered if John was still around. He glanced at George, he was still asleep. He threw his sheets off of himself, sweat running down his chest. 

 

John's room was dead silent, so it was easy for him to hear Paul's quiet voice from across the hall, singing. He must've sobered up a little. John listened to him manage his lyrics for a few seconds before a wicked idea popped into his head. He pushed his sheets aside and cracked his door open. Stuart's was closed and Brian seemed to have abandoned his for the lobby.

John slid over to Paul's door and didn't bother knocking as he whispered out the tune...

"Are you Lonesome tonight?"

Paul seemed to stopped shuffling at the sound of John. John knew he was risking waking George but he didn't care.

"do you miss me tonight?"

John tried not laugh as he thought about how ridiculous this idea was. There wasn't much noise from Paul's end but something made John continue.

"Are you sorry we drifted apart?"

John tried his best at an Elvis impression but he was never any good at it. As he was about to move on to the next line, the door thrust open and he was met with a tired looking Paul.

"If I wanted to hear your nasally voice don't ya think I would've paid the shitty four dollars for the record?" Paul spat and John chuckled.

"You've sobered up quite a bit."

Paul went to shut the door but John stuck his arm out into the room. "Don't want to break me arm, do ya? Leave me fans quite sad." John smiled and Paul glared.

"Listen, Paul. I didn't have much of a choice, Brian was rearing to quite if we kept you two around-"

"You didn't have to be such an arse about it though! Calling me a fuckin groupie!" Paul shook his head.

"Yeah, that was pretty shitty.-"

"You think?" Paul bared his eyes right into John's. "Why would you even say that shit?"

John didn't really have an answer for that. "I panicked."

"Shouldn't you be leaving anyway?" Paul crossed his arms.

"In a bit yeah." John looked at a watch that he realized wasn't on his wrist, Paul let out a small chuckle. John smiled and Paul frowned again. "The point is I'm sorry." John struggled through the sentence.

"I should hope so." Paul went to shit the door again and John just couldn't handle it.

"Paul-"

"Bye John." Paul said flatly and shut his door in his face. John almost dared to knock but he just went back into his room, grabbed his suit case and tore out into Stuart's room.

He didn't bother knocking, which of course set Astrid into a frenzy as she sat up, glaring at him.

"You should be up, we have to leave soon." John tore through Stuart's room, throwing his stuff together.

"Aye!" Stuart flung out of bed and Astrid followed after him. But John kept going.

"We've got to go!" John hissed and Stuart grabbed his arm.

"What's the rush?!" Astrid glared, pulling her hair down from its up do.

"I just have to get out of here." John shook his head and pulled out of Stu's grip. Astrid shot Stuart worried eyes and he shrugged.

"C'mon lets have a ciggie break first." Stu picked up his pack and directed John out of the room and down to the lobby, lighting their cigs as they went.

"What's happened?"

John cleared his throat. "Nothing.-"

"I ain't gonna fall for that shit, John." Stuart knew John had to be aware of that fact. John scoffed.

"S'Paul-"

"God John! Forget the lad. We're leaving 'em behind. They'll be easier rides in the other towns." Stuart bumped his shoulder but John just hissed.

"I don't get it, you've never been this hooked on a groupie before." Stuart let his voice grow curious. John didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it. He held tight onto his cigarette, nearly hoping it would burn him.   
\--------------------------

Paul stared at the door for a minute or two before crawling back into his bed. Sitting up and playing with his fingers. The anxiety for the day ahead of him kept him from sleeping. George was fast asleep in his own bed and it made Paul slightly jealous. It was times like these when Paul missed his mother. She could always keep him calm.   
\-------------------

John piled onto the bus and shoved into his bench. Stuart gently directed Astrid on and sat her down with a light gleam in his eyes. She shot him a gracious and loving grin and it made John mighty sick. Ringo hopped on next, he gave John an understanding look of sympathy and sat down to stew alone just as John was going to do.

The girls, were knackered. Pattie's eyes were slightly swelled and the skin underneath was pink. Her mate, Sheryl was basically asleep. Just before Brian got on, John hoped off. He walked directly to the payphone, still watching Stu and Astrid wrapped up in each other through the window.

It rang for a few seconds, building up John's tension as he hoped from foot to foot.

"Hello?"

"Cyn, its John. I was just thinking, with Astrid here it's making me realize just how lonely I am without ya." His voice was sweet toned. He wasn't sure he'd ever put on such a voice.

"You want me to come down there?" Cynthia's voice sounded rather pleased and excited.

"I'd love it." John noticed Brian passing him to get on the bus himself. "I've got to go, love but I'll call you from the next hotel and tell ya how to get there."

"Lovely! Goodbye, John." Cynthia was most definitely gazing at herself in the mirror and fussing around with her dress like she always did, like John was there with her or something. He found it quite ridiculous but right now he didn't mind it as much.

"Goodbye, Cyn." He cooed hung up and went back round to the bus, climbing on and heading back to his own seat. He lit a cigarette and calmly spoke.

"I've invited Cyn down to the next town."

Astrid looked as if she was loving the idea, Stuart seemed at best indifferent but Ringo didn't look pleased, which through John off a bit. The bus slowly pulled off the curb and drove away from the hotel, John wanted to feel relieved but he just felt pained as he watched the location turn into a small dot.   
\-----------------

Paul rubbed his fists into his eyes as the morning pulled the energy from him. The phone was blaring a horrid buzz and he carefully reached over and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"I'm here Paul." His fathers voice was soft and it gave Paul some comfort he hadn't expected it would.

"We'll be down in a minute." Paul nodded as his father told him exactly where he was and hung up. George walked out from the loo, still avoiding Paul's eyes like he'd been doing all morning.

"He's here." Paul mumbled and George barley acknowledged him as he picked up his suitcase and opened their door. Paul followed after him miserably and they walked down the hall.

"Are you mad at me?" Paul asked quietly, George stiffened.

"No, Paul I'm not."

"Then-"

"Just leave it alone." George's voice went dead cold and Paul might've stopped there if he hadn't ached to talk to him so bad.

"You know, John came by again last night." Paul said off handily and George grew intrigued.

"He apologized, it was actually quite-"

"If you say nice I'm gonna scream Paul!" George suddenly burst. Paul froze.

"Funny....I was gonna say funny. George what's yer problem?"

"I told ya from the start that he was an arse but you tend not to listen to me, I thought-"

"I'd magically forgive him and take him then and there?" Paul scoffed, disgusted and the fight would've kept going had it not been that they made it outside to Paul's father.

"Da." Paul smiled and his father came round and put his arm over Paul's shoulder.

"Tell me everything." His voice was gentle but demanding.


	9. Second time

Paul and George ducked into the back of his fathers car as Jim got ready to pull away. He looked back at them in the rear view mirror, Paul had his chin balanced in his palm, George watched him from his side.

"How was it?" Jim decided to begin. Paul seemed only to glare harder out the window watching the passing cars. "Paul?"

"An experience, Da. It's just not my thing." Paul still didn't tear his eyes from the window.

"And George?"

George straightened, trying to gaze up at him in the mirror.

"He's good. He'll keep writing." Paul stole an answer from George. Knocking a little wind from George. Jim went quiet, George watched his eyes flicker down from the mirror. He could see Paul holding back all the words he wished to throw in his fathers face, terminally restrained.   
\------------------------------  
The mid-afternoon sweat down John's temple, his hand raised to rub it down his jawline. The thick smell of gas spread about the air as he flung himself down the narrow steps of the bus and onto the blazing pavement.

Cynthia was at best, out of place. Her pink tipped finger slopes down to her chin. He couldn't hear it over the sputtering of the bus but she was most likely whistling. She caught sight of him and put on a charmed grin. She reached for his hands as the band began dragging their things inside the hotel. He allowed the grip but strained his hands to keep her from waving them about. 

"Been a while, hasn't it love?" She tipped her chin up. John have a hesitant smile back and began to walk inside, her hand clasped around his tightly.

When everyone was settled, Cynthia roamed their room with curious eyes. John sat on the bed, strumming his guitar and mouthing lyrics she couldn't hear. "So how's the tour been?" She slid against the drawer, elbow over the top. The question seemed to be an uninvited disruption, twitching John's fingers on the wrong strings.

"Well and all." John muttered, setting a flare in Cynthia's eyes.

"Should be better now though, huh?" She teased as she looked across from him, John still barely looking up. "I'm not gonna ask you to pay attention to me-"

"Good."

Cynthia chuckled, staled over the many times she'd used it. She patted her hand over John's knee. "Yeah alright." She grabbed a glass of water off the dresser. "Should I go find Astrid then?" She asked.

"Fine." John shrugged, she left.

As she shut the door behind her, John lifted his head up.   
\-------------------------

Jim pulled up the driveway after an achingly long drive. The car stopped, jerking Paul forward and slamming him back again. It didn't seem to bother him though, reflexing so fast so he could escape the car. George basked in the half second that he was alone in the car but he crawled out and leaned his forearm on the roof. Jim shuffled inside, Paul was going to follow but he realized George wasn't by his side so he strolled back over and put his hands around the car door between them.

"Someone should call Rolling Stone." George looked down at the car seat. Paul took in a hoarse breath.

"I feel really bad about-"

George grabbed the side of the car door and slammed it shut, ripping it from Paul's hands. He expected George to shout but he just bit his lip and turned to Paul.

"Can we go for a walk?" His voice was near mute.

"Sure sure." Paul followed George around the car. And they began walking down the pavement as the sun started its way down. Paul waited for George to speak but he just walked with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"You're scaring me here, Geo." Paul bumped his shoulder. George stopped, leaning against a mailbox, tilting his head back with a broken sigh. Paul started to grow uncomfortable, standing across from him and trying to divert his attention to the passing people. As he dragged his eyes down a passing couple, George spoke.

"Paul?" His voice was worrying.

Paul turned back and found George's eyes welling up with tears. "George-?"

"I've just gotta put this out here." George began, interrupting Paul. "Being with you...makes me really happy and I've had this fantasy..."

George looked away, trying to focus his eyes on something else. "That you'd just realize that you felt the same way." George lifted his hand, biting the sleeve of his jean jacket with nerves.

"And when Rolling Stone called, it was like everything clicked and we were gonna live out our dream together and I-I huh." George couldn't get another sentence out. Paul immediately felt his chest cave in with guilt.

"I never knew that-"

"I loved you?" George chuckled bitterly, his arm fall to his side. "Well....." he shrugged. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to tell you like I did the night of the concert."

Paul's mind flashed back to the show where George had admitted he he had feelings for him.

"And I was also hoping that if you kissed me, you'd mean it." George muttered that so quietly but once Paul heard it, he gave an audible gasp.

"I kissed you?"

"Yeah in the loo, after you got sloshed at the club." George pulled at the hem line of his jacket.

Paul felt his stomach twist, he wanted to throw up knowing what he'd done but George was starting to calm down, wiping his fingers under his eyes. "You didn't mean it and I'm making my peace with that cause your me best mate." George smiled a little.

Paul smiled too and reached out, pulling George into his arms. They stood there in front of the mailbox where the odd opportunity had begun.

"I'm sorry."

"I know." George chuckled.   
\-------------------------------------

Some weeks later, John ran his fingertips up and down his throat, feeling an imaginary tickle as he coughed. Brian stood in front of him, arms crossed and looking John over.

"We missing this show or what John?" Brian squinted.

John forced up another cough. "Nah this is all a trick cause I'd rather not go to school today, Bri." John chuckled and quickly turned it into a cough. Brian nodded.

"Alright well, I'll have word with the planner. Rest up, yeah? Best be ready for the next show." Brian seemed to buy it and left the room for John alone. As soon as he left the room, John shot up and pulled a phone book from his bedside drawer. He threw it open and grazed his finger down the names.

When he'd found what he was looking for, he dialed. With the phone to his ear, he waited.

"Ello?" The heavily accented and familiar voice answered.

"George? It's-John...." he was actually nervous. And it seemed to other side of the line was just the same.

"John?-"

"It's been bugging me since you two left but I'm just gonna set this straight, Paul wasn't a fling for me...maybe at first but-he turned out to be a lot more than that. And I know you must know what it feels like to love him so tell me I'm not genuine here?" John's voice was fluently flowing from emotion to emotion.

George gulped and felt his head start to ache. "There's nothing I can do John.-"

"Bullshit! Your his best mate you could-" John was becoming anxious as he searched for something to say.

"You pissed him of well and good, John. And what part of this is a good idea to you? You're married!"

"I've brought Cyn. I'm gonna tell her I want a divorce." John's voice was completely genuine.

George was shocked. "John, you're risking a lot here..."

"Yeah well the thing is you don't know what it feels like to have Paul love you back." John said flatly.

"He said that to you?"

"Well, no but-"

"Than as far as I'm concerned, neither do you." George sharply hung up the phone, leaving John disappointed. He routinely lit up a cigarette and dragged it out.  
\--------------------

Paul scratched the base of his throat as he entered his home, having avoided his father for the past couple of weeks. He sat at the counter as Jim came round the corner, stopping as he caught sight of his son.

"Is that just it for you and writing then, Paul?" Jim asked.

"Think so-"

"But George is going on with it, he's not letting a bad experience stop him-"

"Why are you disappointed in me when you didn't even want me going in the first place?" Paul narrowed his eyes.

"I didn't want you going but your giving up, Paul. McCartney's don't give up."

Paul put his head in his hands and sighed deeply. "I've gotta call Rolling Stone and tell them we've dropped the story."

"What happened?" His father asked, slightly concerned.

Paul brought his head back up. "Nothing, just wasn't for me." Paul pushed off the counter and went upstairs to his room.

He picked up his phone but just as he went for it, there was a tap at his window, he smiled and did the regular routine of shoving the window open for his mate.

"Hi." George gave a hesitant smile. He sat at the edge of Paul's bed and tried to think of what to ask. "Paul?"

Paul turned from forcing his record player out from under his bed and sat down next to George. "Yeah?"

"I've gotta ask....did you love John?" George asked it with implied embarrassment. Paul froze uncomfortably but George needed the verbal answer, so he waited.

"Yeah." Paul picked at his fingertips and it just made George angry but he'd let that pass until he got what he needed to say out.

"I've spoke with John on the phone and I wasn't going to tell you but-"

"He called you?" Paul suddenly looked mighty curious.

"Yeah....he was trying to convince me that he uh-loves you." George mumbled and Paul just looked completely helpless.

"Yeah, well tough shit, huh?" Paul chuckled but didn't look happy in the slightest. George gave him a sympathetic smile. Paul sighed and put his head in his hands again. George just sat next to him, offering company and playing records for Paul after each one ended.   
\-------------------------

Cynthia poured two glasses of wine and swallowed a few calming sips and gave the other to John.

"A night in for us then huh?" She chuckled and John took the glass from her. "How's the throat holding up, love?"

"Hoarse and shit." John chuckled. He looked at Cyn kindly. "I'd like to talk to you."

Cyn hummed in response and sipped her wine again. "Brian's told me he'd like to change your lads transportation to a plane, things are starting to happen aren't they?" She smiled. John frowned.

"Actually Cyn i'd like-"

Stuart and Ringo bounded in the room, tired after the show. John frowned when Stuart swept Cyn into a conversation. Ringo took a seat next to John and raised an eyebrow.

"I was gonna ask Cyn for a divorce-" John whispered his explanation and Ringo widened his eyes.

".....you really love him don't ya?"

"Yeah. Think I can get them to come back?" John chucked, obviously knowing the answer.

"Did ya call him?"

"I've called George actually..." John shrugged.

"You should call him. I'll get rid of them." Ringo tipped his head back and John gave him a grateful smile.

"Ta, I'll talk you up too." 

Ringo swept the group out to 'let John rest'. John picked up his phone and dialed according to the phone book and waited.

"It's John, don't hang up." John started. Paul's end was quiet and John briefly wandered if someone else had answered. "Look Paul, if this is you...I wanted to say that I love you. And I want to see you...I don't mean to put any pressure on you or-"

John paused. "Maybe this was a bad idea. I've been throwing a song together. First time I've written a love song and meant it." He chuckled and scratched behind his ear.

"Maybe you'll hear it on the radio someday, I might even hear yours if you keep at it, which you should." John smiled. John went silent, hoping Paul might say something.

"Well, id better go than, huh?" John decided to tell Paul where their next show was just in case and hung up the phone, disappointed and given up.  
\---------------------------------

Paul kept the phone pressed to his ear like John might say more but he just hung up. He slowly dragged the phone down and hung it up. As he stared down at the phone he let the relief that neither Mike nor his father had been home to answer the call wash over him.

He sigh as he twirled his finger through the phone cord.   
\-----------------------

John went off to find Ringo. Finding him with Stuart and Cynthia at the lobby bar.

Swirling their drinks and letting the sweat drip down their curled grips. "Aye, just like you, innit? Rather be drinking than resting." Cyn playfully rolled her eyes. Almost purposefully, Stuart kept Cynthia out of John's reach for the night. Even calling down Astrid.

Ringo had decided he'd had enough drinks for the night and moved onto water. John would've taken the time to tease him for it if not for the situation.

"I've got a new song, gonna play it at the next show." John brought up a cough when Cynthia caught his eye. Ringo nodded.

"Sure. Brian's gone and told us that we'll be having a nice fancy dinner tomorrow night before we go."

John scoffed. "Him and the fancy shit." He rolled his eyes. Ringo chuckled.   
\---------------------------------------

Paul picked up the ringing phone as fast as he could before his father or Mike could even catch the sound.

"Hello?" He bravely spoke.

"Paul, this is Mark from Rolling Stone-"

Paul almost let out an audible disappointed swear but quickly restrained himself.

"You haven't sent an update in quite a few days, how's it all coming together?" His voice put on a friendly tone but was near the point of threatening.

"Well and all..." Paul muttered out.

"I hope you'll be finishing it up during their next stop on tour?"

It was on the tip of Paul's tongue to tell him that he and George had planned on dropping the story but all of the sudden....he said something else.

"Yeah, yeah." Paul widened his eyes at his own words and Mark gave a few more friendly but expectant comments and hung up.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." Paul quickly hung up the phone, grabbed his jacket off the counter and paraded down the street to George's house.

George was sitting on his porch and caught sight of Paul blasting down the street and stood to lean on his railing. Paul stopped a few feet short of his porch like he was afraid to go any further.

"Rolling Stone called!" He shouted and George frowned.

"Were officially off then?!" George wasn't sure why he was allowing himself to shout when he could just insist Paul come closer.

"No!"

George pulled his body back in question.

"I told them we were still working on it and I plan on going back to meet them!" Paul backed up a little bit more. George could swear he was about to spit fire.

"What drugs are you on!?" He shouted with disappointed anger and once again, Paul's left foot took another step back.

"Are you gonna come with George?!" Paul's face was distraught and fearful. George thought about the last time he'd agreed to do this with Paul.

"We still have a chance! To write it and we could still make it!" Paul tried really hard to convince him, George growled.

"Cut the act Paul! S'not about the writing! You're going back for John!"

Paul frowned. "I'll be at the bus stop, an hour is what I'm giving ya!" Paul proceeded to shove off in the opposite direction again. George watched him fly off and realized he had balled his hand into such a tight fist, his nails provoked a little blood. 

 

 

Paul left, giving his father a shortened explanation.......in a letter on the counter. He cringed thinking about his father reading it. But he didn't go back, he just sat there and anxiously waited. He took fleeting glances around and caught sight of the bus, but as it roared towards him he knew he had have to get on without George. 

Slowly, he drew closer with his small suitcase banging against his leg. Just as he hit the first step, he heard yelling.

"Oi! You ain't leaving me out you twat!!!" George shouted from the end of the block and Paul put one foot on the next step and one back down on the ground, catching George as he basically tripped into his arms, his own case pushed between them to get some distance.

Paul gave him a surprised and delighted smile and George followed him on the bus, taking a seat on the last bench. The both tried to catch their breath, twitching and taking fleeting glances out the window that was behind them. They didn't say anything, all they heard was the others breathing which eventually slowed to its regular pacing.

At the same moment, their faces fell slightly. Paul bit at his lip and turned his whole body to look out the window. George dragged his eyes over Paul's body and frowned. He curled his hands over the handle of his case and pulled it onto his lap. He tried not to think about Paul's breathing near his ear. The bus pulled over speed bumps as George dared not to rethink his fleeting decision to join Paul for this second time. Paul's intentions for the trip were clear and George had to accept that and he would in time. And he hoped this second chance trip would do the trick


	10. Maid service

Paul dragged his fingertips down the coiling metal around the bus window and tried to keep himself from letting his head tip. But eventually his forehead met the glass and his eyelids fluttered closed. George was as far from him as he could get on the bench. He did everything he could to keep his eyes away from Paul. He tried not to think about this in the troubling light he was thinking about it in now. He scrunched his eyes shut and with the loss of the strain he could pick up someone's pocket radio. The song was eerily familiar but he couldn't recall it entirely. He found himself tapping the pads of his fingers on his knee to the beat of the song. There had been no words yet but a nice drum beat came from what sounded like under someone's jacket, probably forgetting to turn the radio off as they drifted to sleep. But then the words started with a hue of that nasally voice and George just had to laugh at the sheer coincidence of it all. And he knew he'd just have to listen to it, but that small part of him that wanted to ignore the taint of the experience still enjoyed the song. And he found himself humming along like he wouldn't be angry about it later. The edges of skin around his fingernails burned slightly as he picked at it, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth like this was something worth full fledged concentration. Paul stirred beside him, he glanced up at him and Paul rubbed at his eyes and George hoped he'd just go right back into sleep but Paul sat up further and left his eyes open to torture George with.

"Can I hound ya for a cig?" Paul asked in a voice still a little disoriented.

"Here." George reached into his pocket and grabbed the pack he had and opened it in Pauls direction, who nodded gratefully and placed it between his lips just as George did the same.

"Give us a light." Paul said, cig nearly falling from his mouth. George pulled his lighter out and flicked it a few times and the small fire started. He held it just near Pauls cig, his fingers between it. He lingered it there as he made eye contact for so long that a small drop of sweat curved down Pauls face. Paul clamped the lighter closed and George snatched it from him.

 

The bus sputtered to a stop and George knew far too well that they'd gone too far to go back now. Paul perked up significantly and stood eagerly. He trudged behind him. "This their hotel?" George asked, flicking his head so his hair would move from his eyes. Paul hopped off the last stair ledge and turned.

"Yeah, John called me actually. Told me-" he cut himself off in favor for the obvious conclusion to be worked out in George's mind instead.

"He called ya? That's what brought us back, I knew it. I was just-well I was just hoping for something better from you Paul." George intended that to hurt Paul even if he wasn't sure he was still as mad as he'd been before. Paul nodded, taking it into his stride.

"Music means the world to me, George and I want to be close to it. Don't disregard that, but I ain't about to disregard my feelings neither." Paul spoke sort of rushed as he pushed through the few feet of a rustling city to get to the doors of the building. The inside was plenty nicer than the one that they'd had the pleasure to sleep in the last time, his internal worry was settled as he saw Paul pay for a room. He'd question the money later when he wasn't so dreadful.

"I'm sure they leave tonight but I know they're still here." Paul spoke as if George was his co-pilot or something as they curled through the crowd. It did make George smile though.

"Don't suppose you got a room number?" George asked after having left their stuff in their checked in room to wander around a few halls.

"No...-" Paul cut off his fading statement as they saw Brian come out from a room, letting some rambunctious noise trail out behind him in favor of a quiet room that they were sure was his own. Paul stopped on his feet and rolled his shoulders back, George rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, what's the worst that could happen?" George said with a tinge of sarcasm but with enough urge in his voice to get Paul to start walking towards the door again. They stopped again, in front of it with the room number glaring at them. When Paul didn't knock, George did with the edge of his knuckle.

"Maid service!" He called out in a higher pitched voice, bringing a amused tone back in his voice that Paul hadn't heard in some time, he gave him an approving smirk and turned forward again. There was some shuffling in the room and light crept through the growing crack as it opened. And there stood Ringo Starr, they didn't fear for anger long before Ringo just started laughing.

"Unbelievable, come back for revenge?" He looked up at them as the talking in the room suddenly stopped and that familiar voice called out from behind him.

"Aye! Rings flirt with our dear maid later!" John shouted. Ringo glanced at George almost subconsciously as he called back to his mate.

"Can't help it, she's quite the looker!"

Ringo opened the door and allowed them to step inside. John had a pair of headphones over his head, one side pushed to expose his ear and a guitar on his lap. Stu smoked beside him. The two of them didn't make much noise, allowing them to the pleasure of discovering their entrance on their own. Stuart looked as though he might swallow his cig in shock as he glanced up at them. John glanced up at the noise from his side and went to laugh at stuttering Stu but then Stuart quickly directed his gaze onto the new company. John stopped laughing in an instant. He looked almost bashful for a second, Paul thought. He stood sharply, leaving Stu still muttering to himself on the bed in disbelief.

"My my my, our ladies have returned." John walked slowly up to Paul and stopped close in front of him, close enough that it made George uncomfortable so he moved away. Stuart finally shot up from the bed with heat in his glare.

"You shouldn't fuckin be here!" Stuart shouted, with Paul not near enough to him he went straight to stand challengingly in George's space. George would normally be intimidated but this time he just shrugged and projected a smirk, despite his hatred for John he did know he wouldn't let Stuart start a row with him.

"Calm down, Stu." John said half heartedly as he still stared at Paul. Stuart only seemed to grow more irritated.

"Their gonna destroy the band John!"

"What do ya care? You've been half into it ever since Astrid got here! You having her is no different than me having Paul." John finally turned his head to face Stuart. Paul blushed as he said that. George gave a disgusted look that he found to be sympathetically returned by Ringo.

"You've got a wife John!"

Stuart seemed right pissed off and just shot out of the room, with the intent to either drink or have Brian involved. And with that, John guided Paul to the other end of the room where they ached to have a much needed conversation. George again, wasn't sure where to go. So he stayed out and felt Ringo's presence next to him, lighting a cig and looking over at them as George was doing.

"Isn't this a song?" Ringo asked, confusing George.

"What do ya mean?"

"You know..."Ringo directed his eyes on John. " 'He was a hard-headed man, he was brutally handsome'....." Ringo started with amusement and in a sing songy voice. George snorted beside him and gazed from John onto Paul.

" 'and he was terminally pretty' " George laughed again and Ringo patted his shoulder, they both turned away and Ringo offered him a cig which he gladly took.

"What brings ya back?"

"Well Paul seems to genuinely want to finish the article and you know..." He cocked his head to the two other lads. Ringo smiled sympathetically again.

"Well, I'm glad yer here again." Ringo added as George puffed out smoke. He wanted to talk to him some more but in stomped Stuart and Brian. They were both obviously angry but Brian was much calmer. He stared stoically at the young lads.

"Do their parents know they're here?" Was Brian's first question as he played with his cuff link.

John glanced at Paul expectingly. "Um, yeah my da knows" Paul nodded and everyone turned to gorge.

"Same for me." He nodded. Everyone's attention fell back on Brian.

"I don't have time to deal with this right now." Brian looked incredibly over worked as he huffed out of the room. Stuart didn't know he could get more irritated.

"Fuck off! All you lot!" Stuart gave them the finger and stomped back out of the room.

John looked towards Ringo and George. "I'd like to have me room alone." John phrased it in such a way that sounded pleasant but George was willing to bet if he'd uttered one protest, he'd be in a row with him. So Ringo directed George out. 

Paul turned to John with a neutral gaze. John smirked.

"Couldn't resist me for long than, huh?" He chuckled but Paul didn't. "Aye, yer mad?"

"Stuart's right you know? You have a wife and-"

"I'm gonna ask her for a divorce, she's here actually."

Paul went dead silent for a minute. "She's here?"

John nodded. "A man gets lonely, doesn't he? The point is that I'm asking her for a divorce Paul." John gripped Pauls forearms. Paul had never seen so much sentiment in him before. John slowly dragged his hands down across Pauls skin to grip his hands.

"So, you have a song for me?" Paul asked and John broke out into a wide grin.

"Yeah I do, I'll have you that when I hear yours, finished it yet?" John asked as he guided Paul over to his bed where his guitar sat. Paul hummed.

"I have..."

Paul took Johns guitar and flipped it to his favor "Yesterday...."  
\---------------------------------

Ringo wasn't quite sure where to take George, taking him to his room might give him false confidence to make a move. So he took him down to the hotel bar, coincidentally running right into Pattie and her mates having their own drinks. She took a a glance over to them and widened her eyes.

"Well if it isn't our fellow groupie!" She was fine drunk as she kicked her leg up on her stool. Ringo had no choice as he followed George over. He ordered himself and George a drink.

"M'not a groupie Pattie." He said, slightly amused.

"Yeah, yer right, that's Paul, innit? What you are is a prude!"

George went sour and Ringo handed him his drink, he smiled gratefully and Ringo almost felt himself blushing.

"What do ya mean-?"

"Pauls the groupie I mean. "

"What makes you say that-?"

"All of us girls know. I was in my room and I head it."

"What?" George asked and Ringo wanted to stop him.

" oh Paul! Yes! Right there!" She put on a fake voice and George felt his eyes well up again and his stomach conform to nausea.

"We all knew John would go for him. But you." She pointed. "I wanted you but you refused...." She let the rest of whatever the last of that statement would've been fade off when she saw George's face twisting and Ringo looking for some way to stop it.

George slowly sipped his drink and turned off, walking away and Ringo sighed. But George stopped and turned back, gesturing for Ringo to follow him, Ringo knew for sure this time that he was blushing. 

As he caught up he spoke, "you alright?"

George sipped his drink again. "She didn't tell me anything I didn't already know, so." George shrugged.

"Yeah but..."Ringo looked up at him and George shrugged.

"You know I like him then, huh?"

Ringo swallowed. "I got the feeling, yeah."

George looked down right embarrassed and Ringo immediately felt bad. "Nothing to be ashamed about, I know the feeling me self."

The comment slipped out before Ringo could stop it. And George quirked his brow. He thought about the time when George had dragged him off at that club. He wasn't quite sure if George recalled that so he panicked.

"With John."

The words made Ringo ill as soon as he said it. And George widened his eyes. "John's a dick, if that helps." He offered with a small toned down smile and bumped Ringos shoulder.

Ringo again blushed at the contact. "Yeah it does actually"  
\----------------------------

Brian collected Ringo, John and Stuart and brought them down for the fancy diner he arranged. Leaving George and Paul to sit in their room for the time being.

"So?" George finally asked Paul.

"We're gonna see where it takes us." Paul nodded.

George managed an amused grin. "Oh look at you being adventurous and that." He chucked and Paul blushed.

"Where'd you run off to? Didn't mean to kick ya out-"

"You're fine, I had a drink with Ringo actually."

"How was that-?"

Paul was cut off by the sound of their hotel phone ringing. George reached over and answered it. 

"Hello? This is Mark from Rolling Stone, Paul gave me this number."

George gaped. And mouthed who it was to Paul who smiled. "Yes, this is George Harrison." He put on a professional sounding voice.

"We'll make sure you tell Paul that Johnny and the Moondog's have the cover of Rolling Stone."

George kept the rest of the conversation normally but when he hung up, he turned to Paul with the biggest grin.

"Were writing for the cover!"

Paul had to break out into a happy shout and he reached out and hugged George without thinking. He pulled away with regret but George was still smiling.

"You're fine you nutter. I'm not gonna jump yer skin or anything."

Paul smiled again and hugged him again. "We need to tell them don't we?"

George nodded. "They're at dinner now though."

Paul shrugged. "John said it'd be like a party anyway. I could just run down and tell him, can't I?" 

George shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."  
\------------------------------

John was poured another glass of a wine that was way to sweet for his taste but Cynthia was drinking it endlessly. Stuart seemed to cool off though and Ringo was swirling the wine around. Brian was enjoying his time as a host, the party had grown in the reserved lobby. John was hoping to ask Cyn tonight, so he was hoping she was having some fun at least. He gazed at her with love but not the right kind.

Paul made his way through the crowd and finally spotted John. But Brian's eyes landed on him first. He excused himself and walked towards him.

"Hi, Paul" he smiled. "Like a drink?" He offered, subtly pulling Paul a little ways off.

"Sure." Paul grinned. "I just wanted to tell them that they got the cover of Rolling Stone."

Brian looked surprised but delighted. "Grand! anyway Paul you can't be here." Brian started to direct Paul away. Paul frowned and looked back towards John.

"But- I"

John was happily conversing with a beautiful blonde bird, his wife he assumed. If he was honest, John looked enamored with her. Paul felt a pull at his chest. Brian literally attempted to drag him away but not before John made eye contact with him. But John remained where he was, hand locked with hers and he tore his gaze from Paul and back to her eyes.

Paul broke from Brian and walked off. He tried not to read much into it but he couldn't help but remembering John making him feel as though he only wanted him for sex on the side. So Paul went back up to the room and made like he was fine for George's sake.

Later that night, George offered to take Paul around town for a walk or something, Paul denied it and George went off himself.

Paul took the opportunity and ordered the room enough alcohol for a small group. And he downed a good amount of it, just to get rid of the feeling.   
\------------------------

John went up to Paul's room as soon as the party came to a close. He knocked, but there was no answer, and john being himself just decided to walk in.

Paul was sitting against his bed with a bottle in his hand. "Oh no."

John walked over to Paul who was half way to passing out. He patted his cheek,

"Paul, Paul...love?"

But he didn't stir. "You drank a whole bottle of whiskey?"

Paul nodded and John swore, tearing the bottle from his hand. "Up."

He gathered Paul in his arms and kept him upwards. "You don't have a tolerance for that, might have alcohol poisoning..." John was starting to panic as Paul mumbled.

"Can you sing me your song, love?" John just needed him to speak, to make sure he was awake. And Paul started to so John called down to the lobby.

"Hello? Yes, I need medical help for my mate Paul, might have alcohol poisoning or- yes now!" 

 

John waited on edge for the medical attention, to keep Paul up he continued to ask him to repeat his lyrics. 

Eventually the hell came and urged John away.

"Can you tell me your name, son?" They asked, patting Paul's cheeks as John had done. Paul mumbled and they took him in their arms to the loo, right near the tub. They gathered what they needed, John watched on with horror.

"Your going to need to swallow this tube, son...c'mon Paul."

John was almost near throwing up just watching them shove the tube down his throat. He subconsciously clenched his eyes shut and all he could hear was Paul's gags and splatters against the tub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, very sorry this story leaves you hanging with no ending !!!


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